Read part 1 here.
Content warning: violence and language.
I slid my hand into the bend of his elbow with a smile, and we crossed the bustling street. “You now see why I drive a smaller vehicle,” I murmured, inclining my head toward the Camaro where it rested near the intersection.
“Anything happens to my baby I’m gonna kill Jay myself.”
“I’ll buy you another one.” We slipped between the humans without being touched, their heat and vibrancy tingling across our skin. By the time we reached the office building, Drake’s pulse had sped considerably, and the irises were growing thin. “Do you understand why I told you not to feed before you came here?”
His head turned to me slowly, and he ran a hand over his scalp. “It’s like everything’s in high-def.”
“Oui. Our natures are a weapon as well. Hunger sharpens the senses. Now, it won’t take Sangster long to come down from the roof. We’re making a point. Ensure it is a clear one.”
“Gonna be clear as fucking crystal.”
There was a certain liberty to standing before a darkened office building on a crowded Paris street with our guns in plain view and our fangs bared, and I took a moment to relish the experience before gripping the long knob and jerking it down, snapping the locking mechanism. The handle came off in my hand, and I dropped it as the door swung inward.
The human behind the receptionist’s desk jerked her head up as we strode toward her, and before she could open her mouth to scream, Drake had leaped over the high counter and snapped her neck. I flicked my fingers in his direction and moved deeper into the lobby. We each took a position on either side of the door leading to the staircase, pistols drawn, and I nodded toward the elevator as it dinged. Drake kept one barrel trained on the lift, and the door between us swung outward. Drake’s other hand came down hard atop a man’s skull and I slammed my body against the door when a second man was only halfway through, crushing him against the frame with a wet crunch. Drake’s gun moved over the broken man’s head and fired three times before he stepped away, and I dove onto my side and fired up as the door swung out again. My bullets drove up through jaws and necks, dropping the Kevlar-covered men in seconds. Drake let off two more shots, and the stairwell erupted in shouting.
We hurried inside, and Drake stood in front of me with his guns pointing up while I stacked the bodies and leaned them heavily against the door. I touched his shoulder with the barrel of one pistol when I was through, and he sprinted up the stairs in front of me. We stopped at the landing, and I ducked under his arm to shoot at shin through the railings as more men stampeded down toward us. They tripped and collapsed onto each other, and Drake put a bullet into each of their heads as they tumbled down the stairs like dominoes. He holstered one empty gun and held the other with both hands, and I ducked under his arms and ran up the stairs to the next landing. Drake reached around me to open the door onto the second floor level while I dropped the pistols back into the double shoulder holsters and drew a second pair from the thigh holsters. We heard the door below us open into the stairwell, and the accompanying cursing as the pile of bodies fell onto this fresh assault.
“Jay’s gonna be down here any second, isn’t he?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I purred, holstering my guns when I didn’t hear any approaching footsteps and reloading. “You’re a decent shot, Drake.”
“You’d think I’d learn how to use a gun before getting permanent weapons in my mouth,” he muttered, flicking his tongue across his fangs, much thicker than mine.
One side of my mouth curved up. “Your body is more in tune with itself now. Your hand-to-eye coordination is impeccable. Now, your lack of conscience, on the other hand…”
“I don’t owe these people shit.”
“Good man.” I slammed the clip home and pointed the pistol at the window. “Sangster. He’s coming. We’re going to be surrounded. Make an escape route.”
Drake strode toward the window and stood with his back to the wall beside it. I mirrored him on the other side. His elbow slammed into the glass and shattered it instantly. It showered onto the ground below. I caressed the triggers as I’d touch a lover and met Drake’s eyes. They held almost as little emotion as I knew mine did. He nodded and closed his eyes, listening. I sniffed at the air and caught that odd scent that denoted a vampire nearby; it was a strange, cold sterility much like the first hints of winter on the air before the snow falls.
For a few stolen moments, everything was still. Drake opened his eyes to look at me, and the butt of a Glock swung inward and connected with my jaw. I stumbled backward as Drake began shooting, but Jay Sangster was over two centuries old. As good as vampirism had made Drake’s skill and agility, Jay was better. He was a blur of leather and denim, somehow coming through the broken window underneath Drake’s shots. I fired in Jay’s general direction, but he rushed at me and shoved the barrel against my cheek. Drake stopped shooting, and we all stood, Jay’s arm tight around my waist. The top of my head reached his shoulder, so he had to stoop to keep from giving Drake a clear shot of that arrogant face.
“Put the gun down, mate.”
“I’m not your fucking mate.”
“Best tell him to listen, love,” he whispered in my ear, his breath stirring the hair that’d worked itself free of the elastic beside my cheek. My lip curled.
“I could, or I could hurt you.” I went limp in his grasp, and Jay was forced to drop to the ground with me or become a clear target. I twisted and squirmed, ignoring the roar and stench of at least twenty humans pouring into the room and screaming for Drake to drop his weapon. I hissed and writhed, but Jay managed to keep me pinned on top of him so that he couldn’t be shot unless the bullet passed through me. I brought my head back as hard as I was able, and he shouted beneath me. His grip loosened just slightly, and I was able to spin around so that my chest was pressed to his. Both pistols were shoved under his chin. I’d broken his nose, and though it was healing before my eyes, it was healing crookedly. I smirked at the red dripping down his face.
“Bloody bitch.”
“Oui. Let me go.”
He spat blood up at me, and I blinked as the spray hit my eyes. It was enough, and he gripped my hair and held my head immobile just millimeters from his.
“Put the sodding gun down,” he shouted, his breath in my mouth. I cursed in French when I heard the brush of cloth that meant Drake had lowered to the ground to place his guns against the floor. My knee came up between Jay’s legs, and he grunted. I shoved myself away from him and rolled, nearly knocking into Drake as he snatched the guns up again and trained them on the older vampire. One of my guns remained on Jay while I pushed myself to my feet and shook my hair out of my face.
“The surveillance ends,” I snarled, baring my fangs at him. He did likewise, and the growl that came from that slender body shook me to my core.
“I’m reporting to higher powers than you, Lee.”
Drake took his eyes off of Jay for a split second. “Lee?” By the time he looked at Jay again, the man had gotten to his feet as well.
“We’ve the misfortune of knowing each other.”
“Aye.” Jay spat blood onto the ground and, without ever taking his eyes off of me, gripped his nose tightly between two fingers and broke it again, holding it straight so that it would heal properly. Red gushed down the front of his face and soaked into a cotton shirt that had once been green under his leather jacket. The torn jeans were smeared with crimson. My stomach clenched, and it took conscious effort to keep from licking the few drops of his blood from my lips. I could already taste him in my throat with each breath. “I’ll watch whatever I’m told to watch, love, and right now that’s your leather-clad arse.”
“How many of your men did we kill on the stairs?”
“Not enough, but they were innocent.”
“They worked for you, non? They weren’t anymore innocent than you are.”
“Would it’ve made a bloody difference either way?”
“Non.” I grinned at him. “I wanted to deliver the message in person. I know precisely where you are in my city, Sangster, and next time, I will find you and end your operations. I want you out of Paris.”
His brows raised. His eyes were startling: caught between blue and gray when meeting them head-on, but a pale gold when viewed from the side. Right now they were trained on me and seemed devoid of all color. “You’ve done such a bang up job tonight. I’m sure I’m terrified, love.”
“I don’t intend to make a personal visit again. Next time it’ll be explosives and snipers.”
“You’ve a bit of blood on your chin, love.” He waved his reddened fingers over his own face to demonstrate. When I said nothing, he smiled. “Not as though you haven’t tasted me before, love. Don’t be shy.”
“Kindly go fuck yourself, Jay.”
He laughed, the sound irritatingly musical. Bastard. I holstered the guns and touched Drake’s arm. We leaped through the shattered window and managed to keep our feet under us when we hit the concrete below. We were able to straighten quickly enough that the few humans who turned at the soft thump of our boots against the sidewalk were able to convince themselves that they hadn’t seen what their eyes had just registered. Such was the beauty of humans. If they didn’t want to know, they wouldn’t. I ran the back of my hand across my bloodied face and displayed my fangs at a small group of adolescents staring at us as we passed. They whistled and gestured toward me, but they left us alone when Drake moved from my back to my side. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention, but I grabbed Drake’s hand before he could look over his shoulder.
“Don’t give him the satisfaction,” I snapped, pulling him with me toward the Camaro. Drake was silent until we slid into the leather seats, highlighted with the orange of the racing stripes. “Your car looks like a Halloween advertisement.”
“What the fuck was that for?” He pulled sharply away from the curb, and my head snapped back against the seat. I groaned and rubbed the back of my neck.
“Do try to avoid getting us pulled over, hm?”
“What the fuck was that for, Amelia? Huh? We didn’t do jack shit but get our asses handed to us.”
“Non, we did much more than that.” I turned toward the window and glanced at my reflection as the street whipped by. “His work isn’t nearly as clandestine as he’d like to believe, and now the bitch he’s working for won’t waste her time attempting to hire me.” The Camaro’s speed increased gradually, and Drake refused to look away from the windshield. His knuckles were white on the wheel, and I touched the back of his hand. “Stop that or you’re going to damage your lovely car.”
“So now you pissed off an ancient. Great.”
“Monsieur Miller, if you are unhappy with your line of work, you are more than welcome to seek employment elsewhere.”
The Camaro jerked off the road and skidded to a halt in the shoulder. I had to pry my fingers off of the door. Drake took a deep breath and at last turned to look at me. “Listen, you crazy homicidal bitch, I don’t want you getting killed for no reason. If you’re gonna get killed because somebody’s just stronger or faster than you, fine. Don’t get killed because you’re being stupid.”
My brows arched again. “Drake, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you cared.”
He sighed heavily and pulled back onto the road. “Of course I do. You bought my Camaro.” His gaze flicked to me again, and he grinned. “But you’re not dead, so happy birthday.”
