Wild Card (13 page)

“I’ve been burgled,” I replied to her question. “My spare clothes. And my boots.”

“Not your cowboy boots? The handmade ones? Oh, no! They must cost a fortune.”

“They’re replaceable,” I said shortly, not wanting to explain. The boots had been free, given to me by Werner Schumaker, and I knew he’d make me another pair. My distress was because the boots meant much more to both of us than simply footwear. A year ago I’d rescued his daughter from three rogue Athanate. These were the thanks of his hands when words had failed him. He’d promised that he’d never use the style for anyone else and I’d never be without a pair of the boots. Even though it wasn’t my fault they’d been stolen, I felt somehow as though I’d been careless of his gratitude.

“It’s kinda creepy,” Olivia said.

“Yeah.” It did feel creepy, but it was my problem, not Olivia’s. “It’s not worth worrying about. Go on home, Olivia. See you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” She looked a bit uncertain, but she drove off.

I walked up and down the street. A row of cars to choose from and the thief had picked on mine. For clothes? He or she couldn’t have known they were in the trunk. Two of the parked cars had jackets tossed on the back seat. One had a pair of running shoes as well.

I didn’t believe in coincidences.

Back at my car I tried closing my eyes and inhaling next to the open trunk. I ignored the car exhausts and the everyday smells. Dug down. My nose wrinkled and I sneezed.

Chili? WTF?

Maybe the takeout—someone had walked past with something spicy? Why so strong near my trunk? Had they walked past and brushed the car?

Deep underneath that, something else prickled my senses. But all I could think of was an R&R session Keith and I had taken in Hawaii. Not useful.

The lingering sense of intrusion into my private space was unpleasant.

I shook my head and wiped my hands on my jeans. I needed to get back home and shower again.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

The guards were back on the gate and in the grounds at Manassah, but the house was silent.

Not everyone was asleep. Julie had found a cot and taken up a post in the hall, just past the door to Jen’s bedroom.

It was pitch black, but my wolfy eyes caught her subtle movement and my nose told me who it was.

“Evening, Julie. You can put the Sig back down.”

She snorted quietly. “You can really see in the dark?”

“I can,” I whispered back.

I stood awkwardly the foot of her bed. “Sorry, I kinda threw you in the deep end here. How’s it working?”

She shrugged. “Insufficient information on threats and allies, probably outnumbered, short on equipment, lacking precise objectives, unclear chain of command. Feels like home.”

“I can’t tell you how much I missed your sunny optimism and perceptive sitreps.”

We laughed quietly, and a little of the uneasy feeling disappeared.

“How did it go today?”

“Easy. Ms. Kingslund did everything from here, so I was able to talk to Pia and David. Tomorrow, Jen needs to be in the office.”

“You can handle that?”

“As long as I’ve got some backup and we stay at the office. She’s not arguing.”

“Weapons?” I asked.

“Yours are back in your suite. I’ve got a shorty shotgun and this Sig borrowed from Victor.”

“I have some spare guns. I’ve been kinda collecting them from the opposition. I’ll give them to you tomorrow. We’ll sort out paperwork as soon as I can.”

“It’s not all up to you,” she said. “Got to delegate, Sergeant. Anyway, I spoke to Ms. Kingslund and she has an assistant who’s handling my shopping list. I’d prefer clean weapons.”

I smiled in the darkness. I’d wondered how I was going to make illegal weapons with the serial numbers taken off magically legal again. One less job on my list. And she was absolutely right—there were things I needed to let others do.

I yawned and took another sniff. Her scent carried a tingling of unease beneath the humor.

“What’s up? Worried about Keith?”

“Yeah.”

I didn’t think that was all of it. “And?”

She was silent for a few moments. “Heard a lot from Pia. It all makes me nervous. The biting thing. The mind voodoo. The secrecy.”

“I make you nervous, you mean.”

“And David, and Pia. And the thought of what happens afterwards.”

I sighed. “We’ve all ended up in a place with no easy choices. The Athanate, me included, can’t let you walk out with all our secrets.” I felt my Athanate stir. “But you have my word, there’d be no damage. On the other hand, if you stay, you may find you start to like the idea of being bitten.”

She huffed. “Awesome pep talk. Thanks for that.”

“Yeah, I’m fresh out of pep.” I stood. “There are worse things than being bitten by Panethus Athanate. Sleep well.”

“Yeah. Night.”

Jen’s door on the left. Mine on the right.

I felt the stir of wolf and Athanate again, not so far beneath the surface. I didn’t feel in control. I knew at some point soon I’d have to accept my Athanate’s need to bite. I’d need Blood. But I’d promised Diana I would wait until she could guide me through and test the effect my bite would have. And after this evening, the wolf seemed too close to the trigger.

I’d hired Julie to protect Jen. I didn’t want to be briefing her that I was a threat.

And I needed a long, hot shower.

I took the safe option and went into my room.

Chapter 13

TUESDAY

About quarter to seven the next morning, I parked on Grant Street and walked to the Schumachers’ shop, wearing my stockman’s coat with the collar up and the Stetson planted on my head.

Werner let me in.

“Look! Look at my American daughter, pretending to be a spy.” He laughed and grabbed me in a hug. The Stetson fell off and I had to laugh too. Werner was like that.

Hat retrieved, I was bustled into the kitchen. Klara made the best coffee in town. Of course, not what I had come for. Not even for the pancakes and maple syrup that appeared in front of me.

In truth, I wasn’t looking forward to this visit.

Klara and Werner immediately understood when I told them, but a few minutes later, when Emily came rushing in to hug me, my heart crashed.

She knew at once that something was wrong.

“Amber?” Her eyes were already misted.

We sat back down and I gathered her hands between mine.

“Em, I have a problem.” Klara refilled my cup and stood behind Emily, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“I can’t say too much, but there’s something going on,” I said, “and it’s going to cause a lot of trouble for me. I don’t want you to get caught up in it. I’m going to have to stay away for a while.”

Emily looked shocked.

“Did you do something wrong? Is that why you’re in trouble?”

“No. I do what I think is right. It’s just—”

“It’s not fair!” she shouted. Tears beaded in her eyes. “You do the right thing. You
always
do the right thing, Amber. How come you’re always in trouble?”

“No, it’s not fair. You’re right. But no one ever said life was fair, Em. It should be, but it isn’t. That’s no excuse for me to behave differently.”

I tried to pull her back into a hug, but she tore away from Klara and me, tears spilling down her cheeks, and ran back up the stairs.

I was half out of my chair to follow, but Werner touched my arm and shook his head.

“She is very upset,” he said. “But it is better to leave her now. I will drive her to school later.”

“It shows how much she cares,” Klara said. “The tears will dry and that will not change. Come, sit a while.”

I sighed and bent my head. They were right, but it still made me feel awful. “I have to go. I have a meeting.”

“Yes, yes.” Werner waved a hand. “But it will do them good to wait for you sometimes.”

I snorted.

“And there’s another thing,” I muttered. “Your boots. They were stolen from my car.”

“
Your
boots,” Werner said, and shrugged. “They will not suit another, and I bet,” he leaned back and chuckled, “I bet she will not dare to wear them in Denver.”

“He or she had better not,” I said.

“I have another pair made up ready. I must just stitch. A day or two.”

“Thank you.”

He patted my shoulder and shrugged again as he got to his feet and made his way into the front of the shop.

“He never forgets,” Klara said quietly. “We never forget.”

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

I finished my coffee quickly and left; I had a date with the Denver PD Major Crimes division at their office on Cherokee Street. José Morales was a busy man, and it wouldn’t be good to be late. Still, I walked. I preferred the fifteen-minute walk to spending ten minutes parking after a five minute drive.

But I never made it.

Chapter 14

I picked up a tail a block shy of the Denver PD building.

He—or actually, she—I amended as I crossed the street and watched behind me in the mirrored windows, wasn’t a pro. Or this was a double bluff to get me looking the wrong way.

It’d warmed up and I was well away from the Schumachers’, so I was carrying the coat. I still had the Stetson and sunglasses, so whoever she was, she was good enough to have spotted me even with those on.

Nagas? A takedown right in front of the PD?

No. There was no one suspicious ahead of me, no net of people casually heading toward me. She was acting solo.

Who in the hell was she then?

Without wanting to turn around and stare, I had the feeling she was somehow familiar. It was difficult to be sure with her wearing a hoodie.

Journalist?

Bian would kill me if I got slack enough to allow the media any inkling of what was going on beneath the surface in Denver. She’d probably do it in front of others to provide an example. And she’d be within her rights.

Who knew I would be here today?

I walked past the PD and called José on my cell.

“José, I’ve got someone following me.”

“How far away are you?”

“I just walked past the front door. I want this out of sight. I’m heading around to the parking garage behind the post office on Delaware.”

“Give me four minutes and I’ll come in behind you. Should I have backup?”

“No. We should be okay.”

“See you there.”

It was a measure of how much we’d come to trust each other that he accepted my word on it.

I dawdled, slowing as I went around the block, pretending to look repeatedly at a watch I didn’t have, as if I was expecting to meet someone. Then with half a minute to go, I made my way down the road and into the garage.

My getting off the street like that should have warned her, but she came in,
and
she came up the fire escape stairs after me. There’s a reason why successful tails involve lots of people, and one of those is you don’t put yourself in a situation like that. She’d attended some basic training in following people, but I wasn’t sure she’d passed.

Still, I was getting twitchy. This was too easy. It seemed more and more likely that this was just a journalist. But in that case, I really wanted to know how the hell she’d known where I would be. And what she was trying to find out.

I heard the door on the ground floor. Hopefully that was José. I stopped and listened.

The feet on the stairs behind her finally spooked her. I heard the door on the level below open and bang shut. Then heavy feet hurrying back down and another door opening—José going back to the ramp to cut her off. I opened and shut the door on my level and waited, listening.

Clever woman. She hadn’t gone out at all. She was running back downstairs. Sneaky.

I swung over the railing and jumped. In three jumps I had her as she hauled open a door to escape into the ranks of cars. I had her wrapped up and bundled back into the stairwell before she could draw breath to scream. José must have seen the door swinging and he burst in as I pushed her roughly to the ground and snared both her hands.

Her hood slipped back.

“Melissa!” José yelled. “For God’s sake!”

I froze. As soon as the hoodie came down I recognized her too.

What the hell?

Melissa Owen had been the star of the CSI department when I had been working for the police a year ago. As in when I worked for the police for pay, rather than did things pro bono. She was pretty, at a glance, but kinda ruined it with a perpetual frown of concentration that made her look manically intense. Her gray eyes were narrowed and her streaky blond hair pulled back into a tight bun, only a stray lock escaping to soften the effect.

I hauled her roughly to her feet and she dusted down her gray pants, glaring at José and me. I had no time for this shit.

“Someone going to tell me what’s going on?” I asked. “Workload gotten too light in CSI?”

“No,” said José. “The workload has just gotten a whole lot worse. Especially since Melissa was suspended.”

He seemed as pissed as I was.

My eyebrows rose. “Take her to an interview room?” I suggested.

“We can’t,” said José. “I can’t even be seen with her.” He ground his teeth and elaborated. “Employment regulations.”

Melissa hadn’t said a word yet.

“What were you thinking, stalking me?” I asked her.

“I need to talk to you. I’m perfectly aware the problems that might cause if we’re seen.” She and José continued their staring match. “So I was trying to make it discreet.”

“The last person to stalk me around here was the hit man for a drug gang.” I opened my jacket enough for the butt of the HK to show.

Melissa’s eyes widened and she swallowed, suddenly looking less defiant than she had.

“Really dumb,” she said. “Sorry.”

“And how did you know I was going to be here at this time?”

She blinked. “I didn’t. I was coming in to meet my legal rep and I saw you.” She peeled the hoodie off and revealed that the pants I’d nearly ruined were part of a charcoal gray business suit. “I just got the sweatshirt from a shop and followed you. I didn’t want to talk to you in full view of the HQ, just in case anyone saw. I was about to give up when you came in here, and I thought that would be ideal.”