Black Dagger Brotherhood 11 - Lover at Last (49 page)

were they good backup, they were not inclined to waste breath on useless conversation.

The silence was a welcome fourth passenger in their transport.

Over on the downtown side of the Hudson, he got off at an exit that curled around and emptied out

beneath the Northway. Proceeding parallel to the river, he entered the forest of thick pylons that held up the roads, the landscape bald, dark, and essentially empty.

“Park over here to the right about a hundred meters,” Ehric said from the back.

Assail pulled to the side, popped the curb, and stopped on the shoulder.

The three of them emerged into the cold, their overcoats open, guns in hand, eyes scanning. As

they walked forward, Ehric’s twin brought up the rear, the three Hefty bags from the garage in one of his hands, the black plastic making a rustling noise as they all went along.

Above them, traffic growled by, the cars moving at a steady pace, an ambulance siren wailing in a

high-pitched scream, a heavy truck rumbling over the girders. As Assail inhaled deeply, the air was icy in his sinuses, any smells of dirt or dead fish killed by the cold.

“Straight ahead,” Ehric said.

They calmly and steadily crossed the asphalt and entered upon more of the hard, frozen ground.

With the great concrete slabs of the road blocking out the sun, nothing grew here, but there was life—

of a sort. Homeless humans in makeshift dwellings of cardboard and tarps were hunkered down

against the winter, their bodies wrapped up so tight, you couldn’t tell which way they were facing.

Considering their preoccupation with staying alive, he was not worried about interference from

them. Besides, no doubt they were used to being peripherals in this sort of business, and knew not to intrude.

And if they did? He would not hesitate to put them out of their misery.

The first sign that their enemy had shown was a stench on the wind. Assail was not particularly

well versed in the ways of the Lessening Society and its members, but his keen nose was not able to ascertain any nuances within the bad smell. So he took that to mean that instructions had been

followed and this was not a case of thousands arriving at the scene—although it was possible that the Omega’s denizens had only one bouquet.

They would soon find out.

Assail and his males stopped. And waited.

A moment later, a single
lesser
stepped out from behind a pylon.

Ah, interesting. This one had been a “client” before, coming with cash to accept measures of X or

heroin. He’d been right on the edge of being eliminated, his volume of purchasing just under the cutoff of middleman qualification.

Which was the only reason he still breathed…and had therefore, at some point, been turned into a

slayer. Come to think of it, the fellow hadn’t been around lately, so one could surmise that he’d been adjusting to his new life. Or non-life, as the case may be.

“Jesus…Christ,” the
lesser
said, clearly catching their scents.

“I meant it when I said I was your enemy,” Assail drawled.

“Vampires…?”

“Which puts you and me in a curious position, does it not.” Assail nodded at the twins. “My

associates came here in good faith last night. They were equally surprised with what they discovered when your men arrived. Certain…aggressive behaviors…on our part were exhibited before things

were sorted. My apologies.”

As Assail nodded, the three Hefty bags were tossed over.

Ehric’s voice was dry. “We are prepared to tell you where the rest of them are.”

“Pending the disposition of this transaction,” Assail added.

The
lesser
glanced down, but otherwise showed no reaction. Which suggested he was a

professional. “You brought the product?”

“You paid for it.”

The slayer’s eyes narrowed. “You’re gonna do business with me.”

“I can assure you I’m not here for the pleasure of your company.” As Assail motioned with his

hand, Ehric took out a wrapped package. “A few ground rules first. You will contact me directly. I

will not accept calls from anyone else within your organization. You may delegate drop-off and

pickup to whomever you wish, but you will provide me with the identity and number of the

representatives you are sending. If there is any kind of ambush, or if there is any deviation from my two rules, I will cease to transact with you. Those are my only stipulations.”

The
lesser
looked back and forth between Assail and the cousins. “What if I want to buy more than this?”

Assail had considered this probability. He hadn’t spent the past twelve months getting middlemen

to shoot themselves in the head for nothing—and he wasn’t about to cede his hard-won power to

anyone. This was a unique opportunity, however. If the Lessening Society wanted to make some

money on the streets, he was fine with providing them the drugs to do so. It wasn’t as if this foul-smelling son of a bitch was going to be able to get to Benloise because Assail was going to make sure that didn’t happen. More to the point, Assail had a rate-limiting issue inherent in his business model

—with just the three of them, he had more product than he had sellers.

So it was time to start outsourcing. His stranglehold on the city complete, the next phase was to

handpick some third parties for contract work, so to speak.

“We’re going to start slowly and see how it goes,” Assail murmured. “You need me. I’m the

source. So it’s your choice how we proceed. I am certainly not…how do you say…disinclined to

increase your orders. Over time.”

“How do I know you’re not working with the Brotherhood?”

“If I were, I would have them ambush you right now.” He indicated the bags at the feet of the

slayer. “Further, as a gesture of good faith, and in recognition of your losses, I have credited you three thousand dollars in this delivery. One grand for each of our, shall we say, misinterpretations from last night.”

The slayer’s brows popped.

In the silence that followed, the wind blew around them all, coats sweeping out, the
lesser’s

jacket collar whistling.

Assail was content to wait for a reaction. There were one of two answers: Yes, in which case

Ehric was going to throw over the package. No, at which time the three of them opened fire on the

fucker, disabled him, and stabbed him back to the Omega.

Either was acceptable to him. But he was hoping for the former.

There was money to be made. For both sides.

Sola kept her distance from the quartet of men who had gathered under the bridge: lingering on the

fringes, she used her binocs to focus on the meeting.

Mr. Mystery Man, a.k.a. the Great Roadside Houdini, was backed up by two huge bodyguards

who were mirror images of each other. From all appearances, it seemed that he was running the

meeting, and that was not a surprise—and she could guess at the agenda.

Sure enough, the twin on the left stepped forward and gave a package the size of a child’s lunch

box to the man who was on his own.

As she waited for the deal to wind down, she knew she was taking her life into her own hands on

this one—and not because she was under the bridge after dark.

Considering the run-in she’d had with the man the night before, it was highly doubtful he was

going to appreciate her getting on his tail, following him out here, and playing third-party witness to his illegal activities. But she had spent most of the last twenty-four hours thinking about him—and getting pissed off. It was a free fucking country, and if she wanted to be out here on public property, she was allowed.

He wanted privacy? Then he should take care of business somewhere other than out in the

goddamn open.

As her temper resurged, she gritted her teeth…and knew that this was her worst character defect

at work.

For her entire life, she had been the type to do whatever she was told not to. Of course, when that involved things like, No, you can’t have a cookie before dinner, or, No, you can’t take the car out; you’re grounded, or…No, you should not go see your father in prison…the implications were very

different from what was going down in front of her.

No, you may not go back to that house.

No, you may not watch me anymore.

Yeah, whatever, big shots.
She
was going to decide when she’d had enough, thank you very much.

And at the moment? She had
not
had enough.

Besides, there was another angle to her tenacity: she didn’t like losing her nerve, and that was

what had happened last night. As she’d pulled away from her confrontation with that man, it had been from a place of fear—and that was
not
going to be the way she ran her life. Ever since that tragedy, oh, so long ago, when things had changed forever, she had decided—vowed, was more like it—that

she would never again be afraid of anything.

Not pain. Not death. Not the unknown.

And certainly not a man.

Sola tightened up the focus, closing in on his face. Thanks to the city’s glow, there was enough for her to see it properly, and yup, it was just as she remembered. God, his hair was so damn black,

almost as if he’d colored it. And his eyes—narrowed, aggressive. And his expression, so haughty and in control.

Frankly, he looked too classy to be what he was. Then again, maybe he was cut from the Benloise

cloth of drug dealer.

Shortly thereafter, the two sides went their separate ways: the single man turned and walked in the direction he’d come from, a collection of barely filled trash bags slung over his shoulder; the other three recrossing the pavement, returning to the Range Rover.

Sola jogged back to her rental car, her dark bodysuit and ski mask helping her blend into the

shadows. Getting behind the wheel of the Ford, she ducked down out of sight and used a mirror to

monitor the one-way that ran underneath the bridge.

The road was the only exit available. Unless the man was willing to risk a pullover by the CPD

for going against traffic.

Moments later, the Range Rover passed her by. After allowing it to get slightly ahead, she hit her

own gas and slid into position about a block behind.

When Benloise had given her the assignment, he’d provided her with the make and model of the

man’s SUV, in addition to that address out on the Hudson. Not the name, though.

All she had was that real estate trust and its single trustee.

As she tracked the threesome, she memorized the license plate. One of her friends down at the

police station might be able to help with that; although, given that the house was owned by a legal entity, she surmised he’d done the same with automobile.

Whatever. There was one thing she was sure of.

Wherever he was going next, she was going to be there.

FORTY-SIX

The shout blasted through the dim bedroom, loud, sharp, unexpected.

As it reverberated in her ears, Layla didn’t immediately know who had woken her up with

it. What had—

Glancing down, she knew she was sitting upright, the sheets crushed in her tight hands, her

heart pounding, her rib cage pumping.

Looking around, she found that her mouth was wide open…

Closing her jaw, she knew she must have made the sound. There was no one else in the room. And

the door was shut.

Lifting her hands, she twisted her wrists so they were palm up, then palm down. The illumination

in the room, such as it was, was not coming from her flesh anymore. It was the bathroom light.

Jerking herself to the side, she peered over the edge of the bed.

Payne was no longer lying in a heap. The female must have left—or been carried out?

Her first thought was to go and find Vishous’s sister, just jump up and start searching. Although

she hadn’t understood exactly what had transpired between them, there was no doubt that it had cost the fighter dearly.

But Layla stopped herself, as worry for her own well-being took over: Her awareness shifted

from the external to the internal, her mind burrowing into her body, searching out and expecting to find the cramping, the warm welling between her legs, the strange lagging aches that rode her bones.

Nothing.

As a room could go silent when all who were within it went quiet, so too could the corporeal

form when all its component parts had no complaints.

Shifting the covers from herself, she moved her legs over so that they dangled off the edge of the

high mattress. Subconsciously, she braced herself for the god-awful sensation of blood leaving her

womb. When there was nothing of the sort, she wondered if the miscarriage hadn’t concluded itself.

But hadn’t Havers said that it would be another week?

It took courage to stand up. Even though she supposed that was ridiculous.