Clarity (The Admiral's Elite Book 3) (28 page)

“That’s okay, Kyle. We have a start,” Michael surveyed the crowd, feet still following the music, edging them toward the edge of the floor.

“Alright. Let me get back on this, go back and see if there’s something I’m missing. Hold tight, I’m sending  a picture of the one we do know. Maybe some thug with a gun will walk up and say hi to him.”

“Thanks, big brother.”

“Careful, don’t make me have to explain to Mom why you aren’t at Christmas.”

Despite the tension ratcheting up her spine, Becca giggled. “You got it.”

The phone in Michael’s breast pocket buzzed and he slid it out to show her Colonel John Reyes’ official posed in all his finery picture.

“Have you seen him here tonight?” Becca asked.

Michael shook his head.

“Me either,” she frowned. “That doesn’t give us much.”

“Nope.” Another silver tray, two more champagnes.

Becca took a grateful sip. No buzz from the alcohol, not even a glow in her belly. She felt her suspicion grow, Michael was doing something. His decision or Black’s instruction she would likely never know. Regardless, it was making her strong again. She guessed what he was doing, most likely something extra in those sugary drinks he was pushing on her latel. Nothing in their world came without a price, who paid it caused her stomach to twirl
.
But it might save my life.

“We have an obvious choice,” Michael’s voice broke into her dark thoughts. “We stick to our target, play bodyguard.”

“Is that smart?” Becca took another sip, nerves making her throat tight. Oddly, not a spot danced in her vision whatsoever. Nothing. She dropped her control, giving her witchy sight free reign. She was talking about standing in front of a senator who wanted them dead in order to stop an assassin by whatever means necessary. Not even a tingle. The hell
?
Great! I can stand on my own feet again but no sight. Fuck me.

“You mean, what if he recognizes us and has us arrested for treason?” Michael’s nonchalance hid his disquiet.

“Yeah, like that.”

“What do we do as a team?”

“Arrest and destroy or redirect the creatures that eat humans, and each other.”

“Never heard it put quite like that, but I guess that’s a good synopsis.” Blue eyes sparkled, amused. “Why do we do it?”

“Because humans don’t have the capacity to neutralize or incarcerate them.”

“Right, so if we end up in a cage we’ll get out physically or politically.” He grew serious. “Even if Reese has this town locked down I’d argue Black’s got more pull.”

“Always bet on Black?” She forced a smile.

Michael’s eyes darkened. “Never bet against him.”

Chapter 24

A single light glowed in the upstairs window, Jed Allen clearly did not fear shadows. Most humans fear the dark, leaving lights on throughout their homes to chase away the monsters that lurk there; have since the first fires drove off man’s early predators.

Not much changes.

“What?” Kenneth twisted to peer up at her from where he crouched at the lock. Darkness surrounded them, a few turns and the porch light was a non issue.

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“You think you can do better?”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t say anything.”

“Didn’t you?” She spun. He shrugged. “And you made that noise.”

“What noise?”

“That noise you make when you’re getting pissy.”

Ryan snorted in her ear.

“I don’t get pissy,” she growled.

“Actually, oh Queen of the Perpetual Bad Mood, you ar
e
alway
s
pissy on some level.” Letting his hands fall from the lock he should be picking, he considered her with feigned severity. “Did your mother not love you enough as a cub?”

“I am not always in a bad mood.”

Kenneth’s expression remained unconvinced.

“I’m not, right Ryan?”

Laughter from the ground in front of her, dead silence in her ear.

“You want your balls back before you answer that one, big boy?”

“Fuck you, Kenneth,” both wolves growled.

Moss green eyes narrowed, he ground his response through clenched teeth. “You two deserve each other, fucking dogs. Loyal to the pack but fuck the guy right here in front of you.” He stood, leaving his tools wedged in the lock. “Let’s see how you do without me. ‘Touchy feely’,” he made air quotes, “is on strike.”

“Oh get over it,” Ryan snarled. “Talk about pissy.”

Movement across the street caught her eye. “Kenneth,” Gabs hissed, “we’re making a scene. Bad idea when committing a felony.”

“I don’t care, what are they gonna do? Arrest me? Shoot me? Not scared.” He crossed thin arms over his narrow chest.

Gabs mirrored his posture, cocking a hip. “What about Black? Worried what he’ll do if he hears you’re not cooperating?”

“You’re a bitch,” he spat. “It’s getting old, you using daddy to keep me in line all the time. Eventually, you’ll have to put up or shut up.”

“Only bitch here is you,” Ryan’s anger vibrated through their comms. Good thing he wasn’t there or Kenneth would be a smear on the reporter’s stoop.

“Okay boys, let’s do the job we’re here to do and move on. We don’t have long before someone sees us and calls the cops. It’s recommended we keep civilian casualties to a minimum or we’re not doing our cause any favors.” She gave it a minute to sink in. “Kenneth,” she gestured to the lock, “do your job.”

With the most disagreeable sneer and grumble possible, Kenneth got back to work. Gabrielle searched the sparsely lit street beyond but saw nothing.

It was nothing.

Doubt crept in and when she turned back she felt eyes boring into the vulnerable place between her shoulder blades, right where a knife would do maximum damage with minimum defensability.

The lock gave with a slight squeak.

“You in?” Ryan asked softly in her ear.

“Yes.”

“Heat signature upstairs, looks like a loft opens up at the top of the stairs.”

No need to thank their eyes and ears, silence on the operator’s end was a given. Safety and all that.

Plush, pale carpet muffled their approach as they reached the top of the stairs, soft light illuminating the wall opposite them  and threatening to give them away as soon as they breached the top of the steps.

“Well, what do you want?”

Instinct dropped them midstep. Eyes just below the top step they waited
.
Impatience makes you sloppy, sloppy equals dead
.
The mantra from so far back in her training she couldn’t remember the source, held her body locked tight.

“I’m sure they’d love that, but I’m not giving up my source. We both know how that goes. It’s career suicide.”

Kenneth and Gabrielle’s eyes met. Relief in hers, nothing but cold calculation in his. Not a lot of warm fuzzies in this line of work but the chill of his madness sent a shiver down to her toenails.

“Maritza, you and I both know this has nothing to do with national security. This is someone afraid to see how many closets this opens and how many bones fall out.”

More female garbling on the other side. It was not quite loud enough to hear, she glanced at Kenneth to ask if he could. A shoulder rose and fell. Nope. Vamps had better hearing but this one was weak, maybe his senses were bad too
.
More liability than asset at this point.

“You’re my editor, what does that say to the rest of the staff, to journalists everywhere, if the government can strong arm us into giving up sources too terrified to come forward if their faces or names were attached to the fallout? How long before big brother picks the stories?”

His voice turned away from them, Gabrielle risked lifting up a few inches to assess the space and their target’s surroundings.

“Yeah, I know you have my back, Maritza. It’s still frustrating when a story like this comes along. The untouchable golden boy of Washington is dirty, they want to shut it down. This story needs to be told. People were hoodwinked, they deserve to know who they really voted for, I don’t care if he died before he could answer for it.”

A few more back and forths, end result being Jed not giving up his source. What had to be his editor had done enough talking to report back she’d done her due diligence and she would protect her employee.

Plastic phone clattered on wood.

Ice rattled, a sip and a sigh.

Creak
,
a chair leaned back.

Gabrielle and Kenneth moved as one, no need to discuss. This was as vulnerable as this one was going to get.

Pop

Out went the light with one well aimed round that lodged in the wall beyond. Gabrielle holstered her weapon and leapt.

“What the he-”

Cre-

The chair started to come back up, the weight of Gabrielle’s body on the back stopping it. Grabbing at her face, he offered up both hands, she zip tied them. No need for him to wonder at unusual human strength. Too many inquisitive humans through the ages such as this one brought on far too many questions. Best to act like any other human hit squad.

To his credit, feeling his arms bound and the weight of his captor so close he ceased struggling. Typical reporter, he resorted to words. “I know why you’re here.”

“Then this should be easy.”

Easing off, she moved away to stand in front of him. Light coming in from the street was dim, too dim for the squinting human to see much detail. She, however, could see everything. Smell everything. Scotch on his breath, stale sweat, pressed white shirt gone rumpled from a long day. Dark brown hair, thick and hand worried into a series of cow licks accented heavy bags under dark eyes. This was a man who carried burdens often. Not one to give in easily.

Thankfully, we have Kenneth. Did I just say that?

“If you want to read about Senator Jordan’s involvement in drug trafficking you’ll have to pick up a copy of the morning edition. I’m not saying more than that.”

“You don’t have to,” Kenneth grinned that crazy smile even Gabrielle found unnerving. Silent, he approached.

Jed twisted his head, spinning this way and that; trying to see around the back of his heavy leather chair. Strong acrid sweat sprang up on his body.

Tempting to tell Kenneth to knock off the show but it wouldn’t hurt for a few minutes. From the sound of it’s hard, strong thumps his heart was strong, no immediate threat of heart attack on the horizon.

“Who are you? Th-there are laws protecting me and my right to protect my sources. Nobody is above the law.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Gabrielle told him, bringing his attention back to her. “Which is why we need the name. If we’re right, your source works for the man responsible for Senator Jordan’s death.”