Silence filled the air, save the hum of the engine. Karen could sense the tension rise during the lapse of conversation.
“Impact in a few seconds,” Morgan warned.
She closed her eyes.
The car swerved sharply, followed by a jolting impact that she felt in her bones. Then it was over.
“That’s it,” Morgan said.
Karen smiled, feeling a sharp sting and something moist on her lips. Touching her mouth with her fingers, she saw that she was bleeding. She must have bitten her lip. Her blood was bright red, almost candy apple in color, not like the dark crimson spilled back at the bar. She’d cut herself before, but never remembered her blood being so bright in color. Was her blood different now, altered because of the gift?
The car slowed. Looking up, she saw Morgan’s hand waving. He was telling the man he hit to pull over. Karen swallowed; her throat tightened.
“He’s slowing down with us,” Morgan reported. “The one we hit, along with another vehicle. The others in the convoy are still maintaining their speed. The driver is using a radio. He must be informing the others what happened.”
As Morgan pulled to the side of the highway, the car began to vibrate and a loud propeller-like sound filled Karen’s ears. Her heart jumped in her chest before she realized it was just the divots alongside the road, used for keeping sleepy drivers awake.
“Okay,” Morgan said. “This is it. We’ve only got two cars to deal with.”
“Is that good?”
“As long as the lead car is just there to pick up the other agent in the car we hit. Hopefully they’ll leave just the one guy to work out the details with me while the others go on ahead.”
“And if they all wait together?”
“Then there’ll be a lot of killing to do.” Morgan’s voice was grim, and Karen was taken aback by how easily he said it. He was fully prepared for battle and she needed to be, too. But he was, at least in part, a killer. “I’m getting out,” he told her. “Don’t move unless I tell you to. Okay?”
“Yeah,” Karen said.
Morgan opened the car door and got out.
Karen couldn’t see a thing except for the back of the driver’s seat. She had no idea which way Morgan went. Did the agents’ cars pull in front or in back of theirs? Was one of the cars in the front while one was in back, a surrounding pattern? That would seem like the most strategic. She was being foolish. It was a minor fender bender and the agents wouldn’t suspect a thing; just some moron not paying attention.
She hated waiting in the backseat; useless and helpless and having no idea what was happening. She heard voices, but between the windows being rolled up and the occasional vehicle passing by on the road, she couldn’t make out what was being said. Her job was to lay and wait, let Morgan handle this part. So she did.
Gunshots rang out, almost causing Karen to sit up. She needed to see what was happening, but at the same time she needed the cover. Her chest ached as her heart worked triple time.
No, she told herself. Stop it. Morgan was a supernatural being, a former vampire. She’d seen him take a bullet to the head and get up as if nothing had happened. She had to put her faith in him, knowing he could take care of himself. More gunshots rang out. Karen flinched with each thunderclap.
She waited, listening as more and more gunfire erupted. She closed her eyes, feeling inadequate. More gunshots sounded. Karen couldn’t take anymore and was about to risk a look out of the window when a loud bang shook the car. The roof bowed inward just before the window above her head exploded, sending shards of glass down on her.
Chapter 26
Morgan stood next to the car, away from the road. The air was brisk and the highway relatively calm, with only an occasional car or truck racing by. He smiled. The less witnesses the better. The driver of the vehicle he had hit—a rather large man—got out of the car.
“Are you some kind of an asshole?” the burly man asked, slamming the car door shut. He stood somewhere around six-foot-five, was broad-shouldered and had a military style haircut. A small earpiece extended from the man’s ear to the side of his cheek.
Morgan remained where he was, sizing up the scene. The agent riding shotgun remained in the car. Why had two cars pulled over if the passenger wasn’t going to get out and continue on with the group? Damn, if the other car didn’t leave, he was going to have quite a fight on his hands. If only vampire blood could be made into a powder form, like milk—easy to carry and no refrigeration needed.
“You deaf?” the man howled.
“Sorry about that,” Morgan said, glancing around. He’d made a mistake by pulling in front of the car he’d hit, letting the other agent-occupied vehicle sandwich him in. He was in the middle, the worst place to be for someone without eyes in the back of their head. “No need to get hostile and raise our voices. It’s only an accident and thank goodness no one was hurt.” The agent let out a long breath, clearly trying to remain calm, but not doing a good job.
Through gritted teeth, the agent asked, “Are you going to just stand there like a fuck-sack or give me your information so we can move this along?”
The man held out his hand.
Morgan tried to keep a straight face, but the word fuck-sack was too funny. He grinned.
“You think this is funny?” the man growled, his face reddening. “Do you know who I am?”
“Some angry oversized accountant,” Morgan said. “I’m waiting for the police.” Morgan needed to stall, hoping that if he took enough time the lead car would leave.
“Listen, piss-head,” the big man said, taking a step forward. “I ain’t waiting for the cops. Give me your info and I’ll get in touch with you.” The man seemed like he was trying hard not to explode. He obviously had anger management issues.
Morgan shook his head. “Had this happen once before. The guy claimed a lot more damage than what I caused. Nope, going to do this by the book.” Morgan crossed his arms over his chest, showing that he wasn’t going to budge.
The agent’s cheek muscles bulged and his nostrils flared. The man’s big fingers formed fists. He started forward, clearly no longer able to control himself.
Morgan had hoped to buy some time, but wound up infuriating the guy instead.
The agent came within a foot of Morgan and cocked his arm back, ready to swing, only to freeze. The man’s eyes narrowed as he put a hand to his earpiece.
“Sir?” he said, pausing, becoming a completely different person. “Yes, sir.” The agent took a step backward. He brought his hand away from his ear and looked into Morgan’s eyes. “We’ll wait. My partner already called the troopers.”
The agent in the passenger seat was talking into his earpiece. A moment later Morgan heard the car behind him pull out. He glanced back to watch the car drive off and hid his smile. When a plan worked, a plan worked. He returned his stare to the angered agent.
“I believe you wanted to rip me a new one?” Morgan said.
The big man, now calmer, said, “I’m warning you, buddy.” He wagged a finger in Morgan’s direction.
Morgan needed to get the passenger out of the vehicle. The best way to do that was to get the guy in front of him to take a swing. “Your boys are gone. You don’t have to act properly. I’m sure your partner wouldn’t mind watching you kick my ass.” The man was reddening again, his chest heaving. Morgan pushed further.
“You’re an oversized asshole, and I mean it. I can practically smell the shit coming off your breath. Why don’t you take your little ass back to your momma and let her give it to you good.” Morgan had no idea where the words originated, but they seemed to be just the kind of juvenile material the guy needed to hear in order to really get him going. Adding to the verbal insults, Morgan launched a spitball at the man, hitting him square in the forehead. Everything seemed to freeze at that moment as if caught in time, except for the man’s color, which went from crimson to purple.
“Fuck this,” the agent said, and charged at Morgan.
The agent in the car threw the door open and jumped out. Morgan smiled again, this time fangs revealing themselves. Hook, line, and sinker.
He met the charging oaf, connecting a clawed hand to the man’s ribs while ducking past, the big man’s badly telegraphed move no match for Morgan’s speed and agility.
The burly agent stopped abruptly. Morgan stood behind him, holding pieces of flesh, intestine, and rib. The agent looked down at the gaping hole in his side before collapsing to the ground.
A gunshot sounded a fraction of a second before Morgan felt the bullet sting his right shoulder. Then another shot tore into his neck, followed by another. The other agent was fast, not allowing the gruesome scene to halt his actions. Morgan couldn’t let the man get off too many shots or his body, not having any vampire blood nearby, wouldn’t heal properly.
Morgan spun around, catching the man’s stare with his gaze. He held the man still with his vampiric trance for a moment, but the agent must have trained for vampire attacks, because he came out of the trance quickly and began firing his weapon again.
Another two bullets caught Morgan dead center in the chest. The agent was using a .45 caliber with hollow points. The inside of Morgan’s body was torn apart by ricochets. Killing the man would be easy for Morgan, even taking so much damage. But with the other agent dead, he needed this one alive.
Morgan tumbled sideways using the agent’s car as a shield. His neck, shoulder, and chest were an inferno of pain, the rounds likely containing garlic—the convoy of Murphy people was vampire-ready. Poking his head around the corner, he saw the man duck behind Karen’s car. Crouching down, Morgan sprung upward, launching himself over the hood of the agents’ car, hoping to come down where the man was hiding.
Morgan mid-air, the agent popped up and fired two more shots. One connected with Morgan’s abdomen, the other hitting him in the thigh. He’d taken a lot of damage already, and his body grew weaker by the second. The agent was well-trained, a soldier and an excellent shot.
Even with taking the multiple bullets to his body, Morgan’s plan worked as he landed on top of the agent. They tumbled to the ground. Morgan knocked the man’s gun away. A second later he found himself standing over the downed agent.
Breathing rapidly, his suit dotted in Morgan’s blood, the man said, “You’re him, aren’t you?”
Morgan grabbed the man by his collar, heaving him into the air and slamming him onto the roof of the car Karen was in. One of the rear windows shattered from the impact as the guy bounced off and crumbled to the ground.
Chapter 27
“Karen, stay down.” It was Morgan’s voice. He was all right or at least appeared to be.
She closed her eyes and waited, not moving, leaving the pieces of glass where they lay. A thud sounded against the car’s door near her head.
“Morgan?” she called, praying he was still all right.
“Yeah,” he said. “Just wanted to make sure the guy was unconscious.”
“Can I sit up now?”
“Yes, it’s all clear,” he told her.
She pushed herself up. Pieces of the window fell off her. Some of the glass clung stubbornly to her hair, not wanting to let go. She closed her eyes and shook her head before brushing herself off.
Morgan opened the car door. Karen’s eyes widened with disbelief at the sight of her friend. “You look awful,” she told him. His shirt was shredded and bloody, as if his chest had exploded. He had blood on his neck and a red stream ran down his pant leg.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Guess I took some serious damage.”
“Are you going to be okay? Is the way you look equivalent to me skinning a knee?”
Morgan laughed tiredly. “I’ll be fine. Feels like I walked into a beehive, is all.”
Suddenly Morgan was yanked out of Karen’s view by some unseen force. She heard him yelling, his speech slurred as if drunk. “Run, Karen—get out of here.”
Gunshots rang out.
Karen sprang from the car, leaving through the opposite door. Planting her feet on the ground, ready to run, she hoped Morgan was kicking whoever’s ass it was that had grabbed him.
“Hold it right there, missy,” a voice commanded. Staring up the roadway, Karen saw that a car was approaching. It slowed as it neared the scene then sped up, clearly alarmed at the sight. Karen put her hands up. “Turn around,” the voice said, and she did.
The agent was pointing a gun at her. He looked as if he’d gone ten rounds with a gorilla. His face was bruised and bloody, his suit torn in places and covered in a mix of roadside grime and gore.
Karen couldn’t see where Morgan was, but guessed he was lying on the ground at the man’s feet. The guy lowered his weapon, pointed it toward the earth, and fired two shots. Morgan howled in agony.
“Stop it,” she yelled.
“Have to keep this one weak,” the agent said, before retraining his aim at her.
Angered, feeling a kernel of warmth growing in her abdomen, Karen dove into the man’s mind. He’d shoot her dead without a second thought, but his main goal was to bring her in alive. “Okay, just stop hurting him.” The man laughed and fired two more shots into Morgan. “Stop it. Just stop it.”
“You actually care for this thing?” the man asked, disgust apparent in his voice. “He seems pretty tough. I wouldn’t worry about him. He’ll make for an interesting study, along with you. I’ll probably get a promotion for capturing two of The Murphy Unit’s most wanted.” The man beamed then fired another shot down at Morgan.
Karen screamed in rage. “Stop it, you bastard. You’ll kill him.”
“Maybe. The faster you get over here, the quicker I’ll stop putting slugs into your boyfriend.”
Karen walked quickly, hands up, to the agent. Looking down, she saw Morgan lying on his back, a bloody pulp she barely recognized. The man had been shooting him in the face. She wondered how much more Morgan could take.
“You sick bastard,” Karen spat. “You have me, now leave him alone.”
The man fired another shot, the bullet hitting Morgan in the gut. Karen charged at the agent like a crazed animal. He easily avoided her feeble attempt and tossed her to the ground. Anger coursed through Karen’s body, fueling her for battle. She got to her feet quickly. Her second attack was just as pathetic as the first. This time the man flung her at Morgan.