Roman's Gold (Underground Heat, Book 1) (17 page)

“Yes.”
The coyote padded up.
“We were nearby, on our way to visit her, when she took off out of here like a bat fleeing hell. Soon after the cops came and tore things up. I wanted to kill them, but these two held me back.”

Hope surged. Devon asked,
“Do you know where Kate is?”

The mountain cat joined the other two.
“No, we were hoping you did.”

Devon’s cat purred. It wanted out to play.

The others must have sensed it.
“Shift and run with us,”
the bear invited.

“I can’t. I’m hurt. If I take the bandage off, I’ll bleed more. And I have to find Kate.”
An idea formed.
“Do any of you know how I can contact Max?”

Devon whistled as he trotted back to his car, rifle in hand. Ammo rattled in his pockets. He’d taken everything useful he could from the captain. The three shifters had regained their human forms and dragged Lance Aaron’s body away. They’d assured him it would disappear without a trace. The bear had been a chemical engineer before he was imprisoned. He’d do something to obliterate the captain’s blood. Devon had told him to either do it fast or not at all. It wouldn’t be long before squad cars showed up.

Dawn lightened the sky in the east. He got behind the wheel and tapped Max’s number into his wrist computer, then eased his car down the rutted lane. Best to put some distance between himself and the Berkeley Hills and lose himself in the city’s traffic. Captain Aaron would have left his plans with the desk commander. When his life force indicator blinked out on the motherboard, reinforcements would converge on Kate’s house.

Place your thumb on the screen and wait,
flared across the display. Max’s brusque voice followed. “Devon. I see where you are. Did you have anything to do with the cop who was just murdered up there?”

“Do you have time for me to start at the beginning?”

“If you can do it in less than five minutes. I need a chance to tell you where to go and fill you in on what will happen next. That's more important right now than why Lance Aaron is dead.”

“Yes, sir. Just cut me off when you've heard enough.” Devon cleared his throat and started talking.

Chapter 13

Kate didn’t think she’d be able to sleep. She’d taken her cat form, paced worriedly, then reverted to human and huddled on her bed, eyes dry and burning. The cycle repeated endlessly, so it surprised her when her wrist computer buzzed, dragging her from an exhausted sleep. She grappled for it and peered at the display. Just past six.

“Max?” She forced her fuzzy brain into motion.

“I’m not slated to get much sleep tonight. Misery loves company.”

Her fingers tightened on the computer. “Devon. I know he’s alive, but—”

“You forget yourself, Roman. I ask the questions.” His voice softened. “Yeah, he’s fine. Wouldn’t be if he hadn’t run into your last three housemates, though. They saved his bacon.”

She wanted to ask if Max could bring Devon in, but bit back the words. He’d called her for a reason. If she waited, he’d tell her what it was.

“Did you look at the list of names on that task force when Heartshorn gave it to you?” His voice was brusque.

“Yes. I didn’t study it or anything, but—”

“Don’t take this wrong, Roman, but how many of those men were your clients?”

She resurrected the list in her mind. “Maybe ten or twelve. Possibly a few more. I didn’t look at it for all that long, but some of the names were familiar. For the more common ones, it might not be the same guy, though.”

“Hmph. They’re holed up in Oakland. The ones who weren’t killed in yesterday’s shootout, that is. Heartshorn’s headed their way now. We need to get them to safety. But first someone has to assess which ones won’t turn double and fuck us. Since you already had a relationship with some of them where they trusted you with their, ahem,” he cleared his throat, “secrets, you’re a logical choice. Plus, I figure you’ll nag me to death until you’re reunited with Devon. I know how relentless you mated pairs can be.”

She waved a hand over the bedside lamp. It illuminated, casting shadows on bland cream-colored walls. “Tell me where.”

Her heart sang. Happiness thrummed from her belly to her nerve endings. Devon. She’d be with him again soon. Deep inside, her cat yowled its joy and urged her to hurry.

“…be careful until you clear Berkeley. City’ll be crawling with cops. They don’t like to lose one of their own, especially their commanding officers. You’re on their hit list, Roman. Don’t forget it.”

“On my way.” A sharp rap sounded on her door.

Max must have heard it, too. “That would be Ryan. I called him just before you. He’ll see you have a clean vehicle to drive. Also, he’ll be your contact through this operation. Be sure to get his computer code.” The screen grayed out.

She dropped her wrist computer on the bed and sprinted for the door. It opened before she got to it. “You decent?” Ryan grinned at her, gaze taking in her thin robe. “Think I liked the view better when you were naked.”

She stuck out her tongue. “Give me a couple seconds, I’ll get dressed.”

He handed her a stack of folded clothes. “Put these on. They’ll blend in better than what you were wearing last night. Not so form-fitting. You do not want to draw attention.”

“Are you going to stand there and watch?”

He turned around. “Better?”

She shinnied into her underwear, dark sweats, and a dark watch cap. Socks and boots followed. “Okay. Ready.”

“Not quite.” He walked toward her. “Sit in one of those chairs. I need to work on your face.”

He wrapped her hair close around her head, pinned it, and put the cap back in place. Next, he started on her face with makeup, brushes, and sponges. “Once you get back here, we need to dye your hair. It stands out like a sore thumb.” He fussed for a bit, and then stood back. “Step into the bathroom and tell me what you think.”

Kate gasped. Her mouth hung open. She shut it with a clack. The face staring at her in the mirror looked older, haggard. Lines spiraled out from her nose and mouth. He’d managed to nearly obliterate the sharp angles of her cheekbones and jaw. Between that and her own illusory magic, even a close friend might not recognize her.

“Christ, you must have been a makeup artist.”

“Good guess, Sherlock. I worked in Hollywood before we had to go into hiding.” He placed the makeup kit on a table and crooked a finger. “Up and at ’em. Max likes it when we’re punctual.” Ryan shut the door behind them, bent, and picked up a paper sack. He thrust it at her.

“What’s that?”

“Breakfast. I put a cup of coffee in the car.”

She laughed. “Wow! You’re better than a butler.”

He laughed right along with her. “I aim to please, ma’am.”

Her boot heels clicked on the hard floor. Next time she came down this hall, Devon would be by her side. She’d drag him into her room and—”

“This way. Garage is underground just like everything else.”

With her destination programmed into the onboard computer, and transcribed into her wrist computer just in case, Kate let the car decide how to get to Oakland. Nav systems had gotten better. They employed a complicated metric which looked at traffic, road construction, type of vehicle, percent grade on hills, and a few other things to pick a route.

The dashboard display lit with
police vehicle approaching.
Kate disengaged the nav system and pulled to the curb. She averted her head and strengthened the illusion she was an older woman. A police vehicle screamed past, followed by another.

Sweat beaded her brow. Were they hunting her? Or was it some other poor, hapless shifter who’d drawn their attention. She made a rude sound, merged into the flow of cars, and reset the autopilot. Maybe they were after a real criminal for a change. What a refreshing change of pace that would be.

Even with the hundred-mile-an-hour speed limit on the expressway, it still took her over an hour to get to Oakland. Cars were backed up for long stretches where no one moved. All vehicles except law and emergency had to be electric to preserve what was left of the air quality. Some of their batteries died while they waited, clogging the lanes even further.

Kate chafed. She could have gotten to her destination faster on foot. Not really, but almost. She’d asked Max for Devon’s contact code, but he’d turned her down. “He’ll be busy,” Max had snapped. “You’ll see him soon enough.”

“The way things are going, maybe not,” she muttered through clenched teeth.

When the car rolled into a rundown neighborhood filled with boarded-up tenements, she checked the address against the one in her computer. She was in the right place, but it didn’t feel safe to get out of her car. She glanced about. Where could she even leave the car? From the looks of things, it would be either vandalized or stolen the minute she walked away from it.

At least parking was plentiful. She shot Ryan a quick text. His answer was,
Do what you have to. Don’t worry about the car. We can send another or a hovercraft to pick you up.

Movement caught her eye. A young thug chased another, hit him in the head with a brick, grabbed his wallet, and ran. Kate scrambled out of her car, locked it, and raced to the victim. He was unconscious. Blood poured down his face. Her heart ached. He didn’t look much more than twelve. She dialed the emergency access code on her wrist computer. It would transmit the victim’s location.

Kate thought about staying with him, but didn’t feel all that secure out in the open. If the cops had put out an ABP on her, she wasn’t safe anywhere.

She patted his hand, told him help was on the way even though she knew he couldn’t hear her, and jogged to the address she’d been given. She had to be careful mounting the steps since they were rotting away with gaping holes. She knocked. The door opened a few inches. A dark, swarthy man eyed her. “What?”

“I was given this address. Friends of mine are here.”

“One of them, eh?” He eyed her. “If you lied and you ain’t, I’ll have some fun with you.”

“Like hell you will.”

Desperate to find Devon, Kate pushed past him. Her eyes widened. Once she got away from the entry hall, the interior was in good repair. Smells of mold, mildew, and rotting garbage faded.

She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Devon.”

A door slammed. “Aw, Christ! Kate.” Feet pounded toward her. She sprinted in the direction of the sound. Their bodies hurtled together. His arms wrapped around her. She twined hers around him. Breath caught in her throat. Relief so sweet and dizzying she almost passed out sluiced through her.

“Our mated one. It’s our mated one,”
her cat purred.

“You’re safe. Thank God you’re safe,” she said over and over, face buried against his chest. “I’ve been so scared—”

“I could say the same thing,” he murmured against her hair. “Watch my right side.”

“Oh my God. Are you hurt?” She stepped back and took a good hard look at him. “Holy crap, you look like hell. Your face is gray and the skin under your eyes is nearly black. When did you last sleep?”

He gave her a sheepish grin. “Not for the last two nights, that’s for sure.” His gaze lingered on her. He bent and brushed her lips with his. “I love you, Kate. I was terrified I’d lost you. Did you get my message?”

She nodded, gaze glued on his. “Luck was with me. It was on my screen for all of a couple of seconds.” She touched his cheek. “I love you, too. My heart, my life. When you didn’t show last night—”

“How do you suppose I felt when my captain sent the dogs after you?” He shook his head. “Hell, I’m so tired, I can barely think. Let’s get this over with. Max told me you were coming—and a bunch of other stuff, too. I’ve been worried sick something happened to you. Why’d it take you so long to get here and who made you up like a circus clown?”

“Traffic was hideous, even worse than usual. The answer to your other question is one of the underground security squad moonlights as a makeup artist.” She trotted to keep up with his long-legged stride. “How many of the Tracker squad were killed yesterday?”

“Nine. Six shifters and three humans, if you count Tanaka.” He glanced at her, dark eyes brimming with pain. “Those guys were so courageous. They thought what happened to us was wrong, so they put their lives on the line. That’s what cops do when something doesn’t resonate.”

“So forty-one are left, thirty-seven shifters and four humans.”

He nodded. “We did a head count. The missing ones were verified as dead.”

Sadness tinged with anger made a spot behind her breastbone ache. Her cat howled mournfully in her mind. Kate clenched her jaw and tried to refocus. “What is this place?”

Devon snorted. “It’s a hideout for organized crime. One of the guy’s cousins… It doesn’t matter. We needed a meeting place. This was better than most because the mob has MD connections. Most of us needed patching up. Everyone’s in here.” He pushed a door open.

Kate stared. Men sat at tables, or lay on them. Bandages were piled in a corner. A couple of men in blood-spattered blue smocks worked on the injured. Tall, blond, with Nordic features, they could have been twins. The sharp scents of antiseptic and blood blended in an unpleasant mélange. She muted her cat senses. “Have you spoken with the men?”

“I thought I’d wait till the docs were done.”

One of the MDs walked to Devon. “Some of these men will need follow-up. We left written orders with each of them.”

The other doc came trotting up. He patted Devon’s side. “How’re those stitches feeling?”

“Uncomfortable, just like you predicted.”

“Hmph. Don’t forget the antibiotics. You can take the bandage off in two days. No showers until then. Use compresses as hot as you can stand a few times a day after that. Be alert for red streaks or fever. If everything looks good, have someone take the stitches out in seven to ten days.”

“Got it. You done here?”

The doctors exchanged glances. “Yeah,” the one who’d asked about Devon’s stitches said. “Who’s going to pay us?”

“How much?” Devon asked.

The men stepped to one side, heads bent together, voices low. One left the room, the other returned to Devon and Kate. “Ten thousand credits. We gave you a break. That barely covers our supplies.”