Clarity (The Admiral's Elite Book 3) (10 page)

There was silence for a full count of ten before footsteps deliberately approached the other side of the steel door. Several metal cylinders slid open. Well-oiled hinges made no sound as the barrier between them was removed and Gabrielle looked upon her former unit member for the first time in at least two and a half decades.

“Shit sticks.” Kenneth’s kinky cocoa brown hair stuck out wildly, he’d grown it out a few inches after heading in-country. Taking her in in a slow, deliberate, and not very happy look, he pushed his locks off his forehead with a long, elegant, caramel colored hand. Pale green eyes regarded her without warmth.

“Kenneth.” Gabrielle’s tone was infused with about as much joy as his. Back in the day, they had not been best friends. She saw him as a wild card then, and after what she could smell in his loft, she would not be changing her opinion on his mental stability.

The two regarded each other for several long awkward moments before finally, stepping back, he silently invited her in. Breezing past him into the open industrial style loft, Gabrielle pretended not to be fazed by the heavy scent of blood and urine that assailed her as she entered. The door closed, locks were reengaged, and she was left facing a scene straight out of “Sex in the City Goes to Hell.”

“Interesting décor.” She breathed through her mouth to keep her animal side from surfacing. This much blood and gore would have her going nuts if it were next week instead of this one.

A momentary curse for the admiral shared space with a breath of gratitude for his timing. Part of her wondered if Black would have sent her when the moon increased its pull on her
.
Of course he wouldn’t, the bastard thinks of everything. A few more days and he would have sent his precious Michael, fuck his love for the human
.
A niggling thought gained a foothold in her brain before she could shut it down
.
Michael has his own torments under the admiral, that’s a huge fucking cross to bear. The things he has to do for that soulless bastard
.
Uncertain where the sympathetic impulse came from, Gabrielle shook it off.

Michael might be Black’s second in command, but there was no excuse for some of the shit he’d done in the admiral’s name. There was a point where you had to just stand up and say no. That he never did took huge points away from the quality of Michael’s character in her mind. Forcing herself to maintain a calm facade, she turned around slowly until she faced the relatively young vampire behind her. He hadn’t aged a day.

“You were supposed to grow up, stay under the radar,” she told him evenly.

Still staring at her, unblinking, Kenneth’s slight shoulders rose and fell. “I tried. It’s boring.” An Army Ranger when he’d been “drafted” by Black, Kenneth had a more slight, athletic frame than Ryan and came in a good two inches below six feet. Though his smaller stature did not lend itself to any sort of delicacy on the Ranger’s part. Being up against bigger men, saddled with hiding his clairvoyant tendencies, and having to prove himself every day, had served to make him mean. There had been a cruel streak in the human. As a vampire, Kenneth was a full-blown sadistic sociopath.

“Is that how you explai
n
tha
t
?” She nodded her chin past the black leather couches toward the far back wall of exposed brick where a single figure reclined, strapped to some sort of metal apparatus eerily similar to a less padded dentist’s chair. Fluids spilled out from numerous openings onto the plastic sheeting taped down over the pale wood floor.

Kenneth’s laughter, too high pitched and breathy to be entirely sane, bounced off the hard surfaces in the apartment. Gabrielle, who had seen unspeakable things in her near immortal lifetime, fought back the shudder threatening to shake her shoulders and close off her throat. “No, Gabs,” he called her by her nickname as though no time had passed since they’d parted ways.
“
Tha
t
is just leftovers.” He giggled and her gorge rose. “Dinner was so good I just couldn’t leave without taking some home.”

She kept all emotion out of her voice. “Maybe next time you should. What if someone came up here and saw this.” The mixture of liquids that had been coming out of what was left of the human for hours was contained on the clear plastic square centered under the restraining device, though some neared the edge, threatening to spill onto the ash flooring. “Bloodstains seriously reduce your chances of getting back your security deposit.”

“And carrying a gun in here seriously reduces your likelihood of walking out.” When she met his eyes she saw only the flat black of a vampire’s staring back, no expression on his face, no hint of the grey his human nature favored. “Are you so tame now you need one o
f
thos
e
instead of the weapons naturally at your disposal?

Gabrielle considered changing into the wolf nudging at her consciousness, demanding escape. Her features belied nothing beyond a lazy boredom, maybe some mild annoyance at having been sent on a courier’s errand. “It’s easier to explain a gunshot in this neighborhood than a mauling.”

At that, Kenneth laughed. Gabrielle’s opinion of his sanity cemented itself. The madness that had forced him from their ranks at his initial turning had not tempered with time. It was still there, chillingly close to the surface. What the hell was Black thinking bringing him in? They were better off with the witch they had, at least she was controllable through her relationship with Michael. Jealousy seeped in when she considered all that he had when she had nothing; allowed herself nothing. Roughly, she shoved it aside with an agonized bitterness.

“You’re right, there’s no explaining away claw and tooth marks in the middle of the city.” His eyes glowed with an unnatural light. “But that’s not to say there aren’t other ways to hide your need for fun.” His dark focus turned back to the remains of the human strapped to the metal chair. It whimpered. Kenneth’s smile twisted into something terrible. “We have many beautiful and polluted rivers in our fair city. Don’t underestimate the effects of chemicals and water on a human body. It barely takes a week if you take certain precautions before you throw them in.”

Her features gave nothing away. “Then why don’t you put it out of its misery and make use of one of those waterways. The admiral doesn’t like to wait.”

“The admiral doesn’t like to wait?” He went still like only a vampire could. Any hint of color in his well fed caramel flesh fled in his anger, leaving him an odd shade of ashen. Like he was sick.

Has been for about thirty year
s
, she thought.

“How unfortunate the admiral might be so inconvenienced. No one cared how long I waited for him.” When Kenneth turned back to her, his fangs were out and his voice shook when he spoke. He had reached his tipping point and was about to go over. “This i
s
m
y
house an
d
m
y
time. I had plans tonight and Admiral Black is going to have to wait until I’m finished before I come running like one of his dogs.” With that he strode off toward the kitchen and utensils started clanging.

Knowing her time was limited and her new-slash-old colleague was going to have a huge problem with what she was about to do, she reached under her jacket and fingered the cuffs. Padding quickly and quietly on the balls of her feet to keep her heels from clacking on the wood floor, she went to the human wreckage, staring into haunted eyes. The duct tape covering his mouth moved, vocal cords ruined by screams that had gone unheeded for what smelled like days made noises to match the pleading in his eyes. Crystal blue, when they weren’t bloodshot, they held her with a fixed stare. Near death, his blood no longer flowed freely. It had nearly stopped. Still, they didn’t have time to wait, and a monster she was not. No matter what she let the others think, she was merciful.

“Rest,” she breathed, lowering her face to his while her hands slipped around his neck. One on his chin, the other at the back of his neck, a quick twist and it was done. The final breath leaving his body sounding like a grateful sigh.

She was surveying the mess they had to clean up, pondering the distance to the nearest river when she heard the clatter of the tool he’d chosen for his next round, hit the floor. Prepared for the reaction, she forced her body to stay loose and ready for anything.

“You bitch!” he shrieked, hands on his hips. “How dare you come into my home and steal from me!”

“He was almost dead anyway.” Years of practice allowed her to keep her vitals from spiking as she waited for the attack she knew was coming.

“My house, my toy. I choose when it dies.”

She waited. He ranted. Predictably, he finally launched himself at her. The hand hovering at the small of her back, at the edge of her short leather jacket, snagged the cuffs made of the admiral’s special blend of silver and steel. At the last second, before his outstretched arms wrapped around her waist to take her down, Gabrielle stepped aside and snapped a cuff on his wrist. Silver hit flesh, he dropped like a stone, instantly immobilized. Fearful what the admiral would do if she broke him, she shot a hand out under his head before it slammed on the hard surface. Soft brown hair tickled her exposed wrist as she lowered it to the ground.

Hands on her hips, the frustrated werewolf cursed under her breath. She was going to have to manage the cleanup herself. “He’d better have another drop cloth or I’m going to have a bitch of a time returning the rental.”

Chapter 8

Los Angeles

That evening

A chic nightclub and a long line of people dressed for a night at the meat market would usually have Becca rolling her eyes at the superficial attendees waiting in line with her behind the velvet rope. Predictably, a moment of eye contact between the man operating the brass clasp on the rope and Michael and the trio were waved forward. No waiting for them. Good, less time for idle chit chat. The combination of Becca rushing them out of the estate and a lack of privacy in the car, had afforded little discussion on the way up to LA.

Inside, it was more of the same. A few looks from Michael combined with Ryan’s sheer size made for clear passage through the crowded entry. Couples and small groups lingered near the door. A petite young black man eyed Ryan and his thick, jean clad thighs hungrily. The big Marine barely noticed. His path took them straight past the outliers and directly into the mob. Blue lights behind the DJ on the far side of the dance floor illuminated and cut in a mind-numbing pulse, but were thankfully less pronounced at the edge of the black dance floor and transitioned over to the pale tile that differentiated the bar area to their right. Ivory couches and low tables set up like mini living rooms filled the not even remotely serene lounge area. Ryan approached a living roomette he liked the look of and took a step aside. Michael automatically approached and spoke a few words to each member of the small party. Within seconds, Ryan was stretching his arm out across the top of his couch, facing the dance floor and tapping his fingers on the back of the cushion with his legs crossed casually.

Slightly less enthused to be there, Michael and Becca settled on the love seat perpendicular to Ryan. The vampire was careful to keep her on his uninjured side. Michael, in the spot nearest the bar, made eye contact with the server. Weaving her way through the clusters of drinkers, flirters, and seated dancers, she approached them immediately.

“I gotta say, Mike, going out with you is like VIP service 24/7.” Ryan chuckled, eyes swinging from the entry to the dance floor. “Lot of talent in here tonight.” His observation was met with silence. “Are you not seeing this, Mike?”

“You’re the one here hunting, Ryan, not me.” Michael lifted the corner of his mouth in a half smile. “I’m just here for the music and to make bets with Becca on whether or not you’ll be coming home with us tonight.”

Obviously with their base of operations being what it was, bringing a strange woman home wasn’t an option. The image of some poor woman bumping into the admiral at night while trying to find the bathroom made Becca laugh out loud.

Ryan, thinking she was laughing at his abilities, puffed up his chest and the dark designs on his shirt flashed in the light. “You think there’s a chance I’ll strike out?”

Michael shrugged and tipped his head, baiting him.

Disgusted, Ryan shook his head and stood. “You’re a shitty wing man.”

“If he’s off somewhere being your wing man, does that mean I get to go out there and dance?” Becca sat up, feigning excitement.