Edged Blade (13 page)

Justin’s jaw tightened for a moment and then he flexed his hands, deliberately loosening them before looking over at me.

“Savannah.”

I’d been prepared for anything up to South Carolina. I’d thought.

But hearing the name of
that
city had me jerking upright, my hands fisted in my lap as I gaped at him. “Savannah…are you
kidding
me?”

Justin was unperturbed. “No.”

From the back of the sleek little sports car, I heard a snicker, but I didn’t look back. If Tate thought it was a grand plan to walk into one of the few cities where NHs were sometimes shot on sight, then hey, good for her. It wasn’t my idea of fun.

“Why?”

He reached between us and popped open the center console, withdrawing a palm-sized computer. “Read up.”

With dread creeping through me, I powered it up. It was a case file, the kind I’d generate if I’d taken a job on, but the word
sketchy
didn’t even describe it. There was a location—just outside of Savannah and then information on four people.

There were four images in the information—two had no names, just descriptions and races. White male, vampire. Female, race undetermined—that probably meant she was an offshoot. Then there were two shifters. My gaze bounced off one—black male, skinny, young—who looked like he was barely out of his spike and the age seemed about right. Nineteen.

The fourth name made my hands clench on the datapad.

“Kit?”

Shaking my head, I focused on the picture.

She was even more striking in this picture than the one I’d seen in Chang’s office.

Shanelle Maguire was beautiful. That wasn’t surprising.

There was a glint of intelligence in her eyes and the information definitely backed that up. She was an engineer, had a job at one of the few companies that openly hired NHs, and not just for muscle. She’d be strong, though. I had no doubt of that.

If she was a former lover of Damon’s, strength was a given and not just because she was a shifter.

Damon wasn’t into damsels, not matter how often he thought about putting me in a tower.

Shanelle Maguire wasn’t the kind of woman who’d need a tower—or even inspire those thoughts. Even from the picture, she looked like a force to be reckoned with.

Before my thoughts could get any darker, I forced myself to keep reading.

I finished, still focused on breathing—and controlling the emotions raging inside me.

Tate tapped my shoulder and I passed it back to her as I looked over at Justin.

“That didn’t tell me jackshit.”

“It told you plenty.” He gave me a curious look. “I think it told you more than it told me. What did you see?”

“Nothing.” I lied without blinking an eye and if we’d been outside, I would have turned my back on him. “What are we doing?”

He let it go. But his next words completely floored me.

“They are due to be transported to the hospital within the next week.” His eyes gleamed and a cold, vicious smile twisted his lips. “We’re going to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

The hospital. There was a lurching sort of fear inside my belly, the kind that left a cold sweat in its wake. As a metallic taste formed in the back of my throat, I took in a deep breath. “You’re sure? Is this from Nova?”

“Yeah.”

Well, that would explain the avid glint in his eye. Justin was on a blood trail. He wouldn’t let it go for anything now. “Lovely.” That processed, I asked, “Don’t suppose our friendly, neighborhood psychotic psychic gave you any idea of whether or not we’d survive, did he?”

“Odds are good.” Justin’s nostrils flared as he sucked in a slow, deep breath. “He wanted me to tell you that you did good. I wasn’t sure what he meant until you told…”

I shot him a silencing look.

He smiled. “Well, you did good. He’s quite satisfied.”

“My life is now complete,” I said dryly. I settled deeper into the seat, letting the specs of the job settle deeper inside.

It was just a rescue, I told myself.

I’d done them before.

This would be easy.

No sweat.

“Enjoy your stay. Please be advised that an extra twenty percent will be added to your bill, in accordance with NH safety regulations. Magic of any sort, shapeshifting and violence are forbidden on this property and violators are subject to fines and imprisonment.”

I curled my lip as the politely delivered message ended and Justin’s key for the pre-paid motel room was dropped out of the slot.

“Twenty percent? That’s insane,” Tate said.

“Complain to the state liaison.” Justin hefted his bag as he strode up the walk, searching out our unit. “Georgia state law allows business owners to decide their own hazard charge, as long as it’s not applied to any humans.”

“You know, we
could
have just gone straight on to Savannah, avoided being ripped off by paying for a squalid, filthy room and just done our job and gotten the hell out of Dodge,” I said helpfully.

“We
could
have, I guess.” Justin swiped the chip in front of the lock. It made a low, electronic hum and the locks disengaged. “But we didn’t. Look, we need to sleep and I’m meeting a contact.”

A contact.

Great.

As he disappeared into the room, I lingered on the porch, my bag hooked over one shoulder. Staring out over into the night, I focused on the uneasiness that spread through me with every passing second.

“This contact had better be important,” I said after a moment. “And prompt.”

Justin stood near one of two beds. Neither of them were particularly clean looking. He’d taken the one closest to the door and the quilt was a revolting shade of green, one that made me think of bile.

As I stared at him, he checked the time. After a moment, he finally seemed to realize I’d said something—and was waiting for a response. “Yeah, it’s important. And…prompt? Why?”

“Because we don’t need to
be
here,” I said.

“Meaning…?”

I shook my head. I couldn’t define what I felt any better than that.

But Justin knew me well enough to hear the unsaid things. He closed his eyes and started to swear, long and loud.

Tate sat on the edge of the other bed, apparently unconcerned by the fact that the quilt looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since the war. “Why don’t we need to be here?” she asked, her brow wrinkling. “Is this some of your crazy
aneira
shit?”

“Sure.” I gave her a wide smile. “Just like setting things on fire is your crazy witch shit.”

I moved back to the door, drawn by some unseen threat and a faint voice in the back of my mind, one that whispered:
Hurry hurry hurry
—

“How many people knew we’d be here?” I asked, resting one hand on the butt of the Glock.

“Only my contact.” A grim smile slanted his lips as he added, “And the online reservation service I used to book the room, but I don’t think that counts since it’s a
what
and not a
who
.”

I stared hard into the darkness. “Who is…”

The words lodged in my throat as a cool presence drifted across the edge of my consciousness.

Justin moved to join me.

I murmured his name softly.

“Well, fuck.” Mouth in a tight, grim line, Justin lifted his eyes upward.

A shiver raced down my spine as my conscience brain acknowledged what my instincts had already figured out.

“Kit?”

I shook my hand, trying to ease the gut-wrenching nerves. “Yeah?”

“It’s going to be okay,” Justin murmured.

Then he moved forward, right as the pale, dark-haired form emerged from the darkness.

Abraham Allerton stood there, studying us. He stared at us. We stared back. I had the feeling he was holding himself still only because he was giving us—
me
—time to adjust to his presence.

“If he’s your source, Justin, couldn’t you have met in East Orlando?”

Justin scowled. “He’s not my source,” he said, frustration underscoring his voice. “What are you doing here, Abe?”

A flicker of distaste crossed Abraham’s face, but it was gone quickly, like a ripple over a lake. “I’m looking for you.” A benign smile curved his lips. “We agreed to share information, after all. I shared. Now it’s your turn.”

“I’m sort of in the middle of a job,” Justin said.

“No.” Abraham looked around, his expression bored. “You’re in the middle of a trap.”

I tensed.

Next to me, Justin’s posture lost its easy languidness. “What?”

“A trap,” Abraham said. Then, helpfully, he offered, “It’s when you’re in a position to be captured by bad people who wish to do bad things to you. It’s not a place you want to be, Justin. I’m sure Ms. Colbana and Ms. Prescott don’t wish to be in that position, even if you are somewhat careless.”

Justin strode forward.

Abraham was either one tough bastard or stupid. I’d seen people die when Justin had that look on his face. He stopped just inches from Abraham. “Explain—and do it fast.”

“I shall, because fast is all we have time for.” The lazy amusement faded from his face. “You need to leave—all three of you—and you must do it immediately. This establishment is…problematic.”

“That’s not explaining.”

His hair fell to the side, brushing his shoulders as he explained, “In the past two years, seven non-humans have disappeared from this motel. None of them were ever seen again. In the past two years, only nine non-humans have ever stayed here. Those numbers are troubling.”

“Uh…
yeah
,” Tate said, snorting.

Abraham didn’t even look at her. “And aside from that is your…source. He’s even more of a problem. He’s a skin trader.”

I hissed out a breath. Tate gasped and Justin’s spine went poker-straight.

Skin traders are pretty much the scum of the earth, and that’s being polite. They were NHs who sold their own kind out. It didn’t matter who it was, or what was going to happen to them. What mattered was the bottom dollar and the bigger that bottom dollar was, the happier the skin trader was.

“You’re fucking with me,” Justin said, shaking his head. “I know him.”

“As do I.” A thin smile curled Abraham’s lips. “And I’ll be sure to keep that acquaintance in mind when I hunt him down and rip out his jugular. Trust me, Justin…Saul Tremble is a skin trader. He’s one of the best. He flies so low on the radar, nobody ever recognizes him. He’s one of the men I’ve been hunting for years…and I never even realized it was
him
I was hunting until seventy-two hours ago.”

Justin turned away. His gaze connected with mine before bouncing away. He was pale, almost as shaken as I’d ever seen him. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

“I’m afraid I am,” Abraham said quietly.

Justin nodded and said nothing for the next couple of minutes.

I looked at Tate. “Pack up.”

By the time Justin had finished wrapping his mind around what he’d just learned—or at least shoving it into a box until he was ready to deal with it—we were ready to go.

“We’re just going to have to drive through the night,” Justin said, tossing his bag into the car.

“I have a place,” Abraham offered, walking alongside me.

It was somewhat disconcerting to realize his nearness didn’t bother me. It wasn’t any more disturbing than having Scott standing next to me, or Chang.

“We’ll make do,” came Justin’s terse reply.

“You should let me help you,” Abraham said, his voice flat. “You agreed to share information with me. I’ve shared information. You’ve withheld it. That’s not like you, Justin. I can be of help and you know it.”

Justin opened his mouth only to shut it without saying anything.

Abraham pushed his advantage. He looked back at me, then at Tate. “Three of you. You intend to do this with only three of you.”

Justin lifted a shoulder. “With the plan I have, I could do it with two, but I like to be prepared.”

Abraham lifted a brow. “A fourth would be better. I know where you’re going. Don’t be foolish.”

“I got this.” Neither of them looked at me as they argued.

That pointed avoidance had me narrowing my eyes, because I had a feeling I knew why Justin was refusing the offered help.

“We have a mutual interest.” Abraham was one stubborn son of a bitch.

“Yeah, we do.” Justin opened the door, but lingered, eying Abraham. “Look, you wanted us gone, so we’re going. But listen up, I’ve worked with too many vamps before. Once you get the man you want, you’re just as likely to bail and I plan on getting
all
of them out.”

“I will help you with that—you have my word.”

“Not the issue.” Justin went to climb inside.

“Justin.”

He stilled.

“Do we need another set of hands?” My own hands were slippery with sweat.

“We can handle it,” Justin said. The words were completely and utterly devoid of emotion. He didn’t sound confident but he didn’t sound doubtful. That worried me more than anything.

“That’s not what she asked,” Tate said quietly, moving to stand at my shoulder—not a place I’d
ever
expected her to be.

I didn’t look at her. “Yes or no, can we use more hands on this?”

My newfound sense of calm melted when I realized Abraham wasn’t going to fly the friendly skies as vampires tended to do. Nope, he was going to
ride
with us. In Justin’s car.

The idea of being trapped in the confines of a car with him was beyond nerve-wracking and my stomach wanted to twitch and heave. I fought to calm myself as we sped down the highway.

I’d ducked into the backseat as soon as I’d realized what he planned to do. No way did I want a vampire at my back, even one who didn’t make my skin crawl. We’d been heading north down the country highway for maybe ten minutes when a black truck drove by us, driving in the opposite direction. I couldn’t explain why, but I looked back and noted the license plates, committing them to memory.

Then there was another black truck, followed by three black sedans. There was another truck—a utility vehicle—and although we were speeding by, I sensed the presence of numerous people inside it. Curling my hands into fists, I said, “Justin…we have to
move
.”