Sarah McCarty (10 page)
Jane licked her lips. Slade had a huge hero complex. Big enough that it might prompt him to lie rather than tell the truth. If she took the car, and the vampires who had chased them last night found him in a weakened state, he wouldn’t have any way to get away even if he was in perfect health. If injured, he’d be a sitting duck.
But she’d be safe.
Her survival instinct wasn’t as developed as it should be, because being safe at the cost of Slade’s life didn’t sound as enticing as it should.
“I’m not a hero.”
The words landed harmlessly in the car’s interior.
She turned the ignition. The car hummed to life. She checked the gas gauge. Three-quarters full.
Drive due north... I don’t want you to stop ... There’s cash in the false bottom of the glove compartment, along with a gun and instructions on how to use it.
Slade had made sure there’d be enough of everything for her. Even in the event that he wouldn’t be there to help. She squeezed the leather-wrapped steering wheel. He’d known he might not get out of this alive. And he’d come for her anyway. Her own hero. Twenty-five years too late to be the answer to her childhood prayer, but he’d finally shown up.
She cut a glance heavenward. “You’ve got a weird sense of humor.”
A lightning bolt didn’t strike her dead. A sign she was going in the right direction?
She told herself she’d started the engine to keep herself warm against the chill of the dawn and the depth of her own terror, but no amount of artificially generated heat could warm the cold inside her. For God’s sake, she was contemplating leaving a man to die. One who’d saved her life.
She turned off the engine. She’d learned to live with a lot of things in her life, but that guilt wouldn’t be one of them. For better or worse, it would be her and Slade against whatever the day brought. She took the keys out of the ignition, bumped her elbow on the gear shift, and dropped the keys. Something on the floor under the seat bumped her hand. It was small and oblong. Not the keys. Switching on the light, she studied it. A transceiver was hidden under the front passenger seat. A cautious hope bloomed inside. A transceiver meant Slade had someone to talk to. Help.
Unless he hadn’t known it was there.
He had to know. A man who could manipulate energy had to be able to detect it. Why hadn’t he used it? Maybe because there hadn’t been time? Sanctuary had had all night to make their move at the lab while she’d been destroying files and shredding paper. The fact that they’d waited until just before dawn would make sense if they wanted to make it tough for other vampires to pursue them. Especially if they’d planned on passing her off to werewolves. But Slade hadn’t known that. He hadn’t expected her to break her routine and go to the lab. He’d thought he had more time.
Reaching down again she scooped up the keys and the transceiver. Nothing like the option of communication to brighten a woman’s day. Leaning over, she popped open the glove compartment. The false bottom took a minute to figure out, but when she did, the money and gun, plus instructions, were there. She grabbed her bag and shoved the money in. Before she grabbed the gun, she checked the instructions. Slade’s handwriting was bold and concise, like the man himself. The instructions stated that the gun had a safety and it was loaded. Good. After reviewing the how-tos, she dropped it in the bag and gave it a pat. Nothing like being armed to boost a woman’s confidence.
She headed over to the box. “Slade?”
There was no response, but she hadn’t really expected one. Placing her hand on the lid, she searched for that sense of connection. Needing it. All she found was an empty echo of nothingness.
Damn it
. She’d put Slade in the box to save him from the sun, but what if he was dying from his injuries? There was no way to know, and with the sunbeams bursting through every crack in the dilapidated building, no way to find out.
Damn it
. She’d put Slade in the box to save him from the sun, but what if he was dying from his injuries? There was no way to know, and with the sunbeams bursting through every crack in the dilapidated building, no way to find out.
“Why isn’t anything ever easy?”
She looked at the device in her hand. There was no obvious on/ off switch. It was possible that Slade’s ability to manipulate energy was what activated it, but it was also possible that the easiest solution was the most logical and that would mean a pressure-sensitive, or photo-sensitive, switch. She put the oblong device in her ear. Beyond a slight buzzing sound, like crickets in the distance, which could just be an echo of the air between her ear and the device, she heard nothing. Maybe it was sound activated.
“Hello?” Nothing. “Hello? Is anybody there?”
It might be her imagination, but the crickets seemed livelier.
All vampire senses are heightened.
Maybe even their sense of hearing? “You’re going to have to speak up. I can’t hear you.”
Excitement flared. The crickets were definitely jumping around in there, and it was in response to her speech, which meant there was someone else at the other end.
“Where the hell are you?” blasted from the earpiece. Yelping, she batted the device out of her ear. It flipped to the dirt beside the box.
“Oh shit.” Dust billowed as she dropped to her knees and fumbled for it. “Where the hell are you?” roared out of the device again, followed quickly by a very disgruntled, “How in hell does Slade calibrate this thing. I can’t hear a thing.”
Another voice came through, just as male. Just as arrogant, but with a touch more patience.
“What do you need to calibrate?”
“There’s a woman on Slade’s transceiver.”
“About time the man got out.”
She finally found the stupid transceiver. Naturally, amidst a pile of cobwebs. Shuddering, she brushed them off.
“You’re too loud now,” she yelled into it.
“Who are you?”
“Stop yelling.” She needed her eardrums.
“Don’t tell me what to do, woman. Just tell me what you did with Slade?”
Woman?
“I put him in a box.”
“I put him in a box.”
Static crackled over the connection. “Damn it, Derek, fix this thing. I think she said she put him in a box.”
The other voice came again, calm but faint, over the connection. “It’s calibrated for Slade’s voice. Just keep her talking, and I’ll have it in a minute.”
“Why in hell doesn’t it just fix itself?”
“It’s a machine,” Derek retorted.
“Good to know I’m not dealing with total idiots,” she muttered as more static crackled.
“Hurry up, Derek. I think we’re being insulted.”
There was no “think” about it. “What do you need me to do?” she asked.
“Keep talking.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Whatever you want.”
She launched into a rendition of “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” A male chuckle, rich and warm, filled her ear. Good to know she was capable of entertaining. When she got to “its fleece was white as snow,” Derek said, “I have it.”
“Put the transceiver in your ear,” blasted out of the device.
“As soon as you stop yelling. I need my eardrums.”
The man dropped his voice. She put the device to her ear.
“I’m here.”
“Good. Now, lady, who are you?”
“Who are you?”
There was a pause. “Caleb. Slade’s brother.”
Thank God. Family
. “How do I know you’re Slade’s brother?”
. “How do I know you’re Slade’s brother?”
“I look just like him.”
Fat lot of help that was. “I can’t see you.” Which he knew.
“Where are you?”
He kept asking her that. How hard would it be for someone to hack a frequency? Triangulate a position?
Keep talking
.
.
Unease pushed aside her relief.
“I’m not going to tell you that. I just need to know when night comes, which way to drive.”
This time there was no mistaking the sound that came over the transceiver. A growl, like a dog. Or a wolf. Slade had warned her six ways to Sunday, and she hadn’t listened. “Oh my God, you’re one of them!”
“Wait!”
She wasn’t waiting for anything. Snatching the earpiece out of her ear, she threw it on the ground and stomped it hard. She kept stomping until there was nothing left but smashed fragments. Tiny fragments that most definitely could no longer function as a tracking device.
God, she hoped he hadn’t kept her talking long enough that he could trace her. Grabbing her bag off the floor, Jane dug around inside until she found the gun. Pulling it out, she stared at the fragile, rusted barrier on the door, backing up until her butt hit the box, her nerves jangling with images of fanged demons drooling blood, breaking through at any second.
Don’t trust anyone
.
.
Oh God
, what had she done?
, what had she done?
Bracing herself with one hand, she sat on the wooden box and shoved the bag behind her. The muzzle of the gun followed the trajectory of her gaze as it bounced between the windows and the door.
“Slade?” No answer yet. Just hoping. Stupidly, pointlessly hoping.
“I screwed up,” she confessed, sliding back until her shoulders hit the wall, keeping the gun trained on the door, knowing in her gut that they were coming. Knowing it was her fault. Weariness and despair waged for supremacy.
“But don’t worry. I’ll fix it.”
She didn’t have any choice.
“WATCH
the gun.”
the gun.”
The order snapped Jane’s eyes open. Oh God, she’d fallen asleep. It was almost dark in the barn, but she knew
they
were here. She recognized that voice. Picking up the gun, she pulled the trigger. There was a flash of light and an explosion. The recoil slammed her back. The gun jumped in her grip. Her hands hit the wall above her head. Clamping down, she held on to the weapon.
They
were here. The voices from the device. Scrambling back, she listened for any sound that would give away their location, their number.
they
were here. She recognized that voice. Picking up the gun, she pulled the trigger. There was a flash of light and an explosion. The recoil slammed her back. The gun jumped in her grip. Her hands hit the wall above her head. Clamping down, she held on to the weapon.
They
were here. The voices from the device. Scrambling back, she listened for any sound that would give away their location, their number.
A hand on her arm yanked her sideways. “Settle down!”
And go willingly to her death? Not hardly. The fingertips of her right hand brushed the edge of the box. She grabbed it, taking aim in the second before the monster’s strength overwhelmed her. “No.”
Frantically, she squeezed the trigger. The report filled the interior with a howl of violence. Vicious swearing preceded the yank that hauled her off the box and up against a very big, very solid male body. With disgusting ease, the man turned her and pressed her so close she could feel every ridge of his six-pack abdomen against her spine.
Son of a bitch
. In her whole life, she’d never seen a real-life man packed with muscle, yet in the last twenty-four hours she hadn’t met anything but. It wasn’t fair.
. In her whole life, she’d never seen a real-life man packed with muscle, yet in the last twenty-four hours she hadn’t met anything but. It wasn’t fair.
“Slade, haul your ass out here.”
The order boomed above her head. The same voice she’d heard over the transceiver. Holding on to calm with the same frantic need with which she’d fired the gun, Jane kicked back, aiming for the knee. Something thudded against the wooden wall. Another hand grabbed hers. The same man, or someone else? Gouging down with the heel of her fancy boot, digging for the kneecap, she grabbed the hand, yanked it to her mouth, and bit down. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth.
“Here now, you don’t want to do that.”
She pulled back, letting the blood spill, shuddering as her stomach revolted, repulsed. He was right. She didn’t want any of this, but Slade needed her. He was helpless. More swearing, a snarl, and then, “Damn it, woman, stop fighting.”
Slade’s voice, yet not Slade’s. A trick? It had to be a trick. She fought harder. The man behind her squeezed his arm around her chest, stealing her breath until her threats were just broken gasps. There was another snarl. The hand left her mouth. Turning her wrist, she angled the muzzle at her attacker’s leg. Was Slade awake? Capable? “Run, Slade!”
Before she could squeeze the trigger, the gun was torn from her hand.
“Sorry, cutie,” the other man, little more than a deep shadow, said.
Cutie?
“Let me go!”
“Let me go!”
“In a minute. When I’m sure you’re not going to unman me with that knee.”
She was going to do more than unman him. She saw a shadow move toward the box lid. She watched helplessly as that shadow bent and an arm extended into the box. Oh God, they had him. “Leave him be.”
There was a groan from the box. Something metal gleamed to the right. The gun?
Dear God!
They were turning the gun on Slade.
Dear God!
They were turning the gun on Slade.
“Look out.” In desperation, Jane twisted out of her captor’s grasp and leapt for the gun. An arm snaked around her waist. The gun exploded as she was yanked back.
“Goddamnit, Jane!”
Slade.
The arm around her waist lifted her. A hand cupped the back of her head. A spicy male musk encased her in a hug of familiarity as her face was pressed against a muscular chest.
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