Accidentally Dead, Again Part 19

Nowadays, he was omnipotent on the Internet, not to mention a master at hacking some of the most secure sites in the world. And wanted in more states than Sam could count without losing track and having to start over. Stinky could hack Hornstein's account while he solved a Rubik's Cube and deciphered the theory of relativity.

Sam had used Stinky's hacking skills on more than one occasion without department permission. He couldn't blame him for falling into the familiar pattern of their cash-for-services-rendered banter, but he'd picked a d.a.m.n bad day.

Fighting for the control he was usually a sensei at, he gritted his teeth. "Stinky? Now's not the time. Listen, and get it right the first time, because if I have to say it more than once, I'll chew you a new a.s.shole with my laser scope. Dr. Philip Hornstein. A neurologist in Manhattan. Get into his patient files. Get in now. Find a woman named Phoebe Reynolds. In fact, find anyone with the diagnosis for Alzheimer's. Then call me back with whatever you got. You have fifteen minutes or I come drag your a.s.s up the stairs of your mother's house in Queens and make her a very rich woman."

"You know where I live?" he squeaked.

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Now I do. Fifteen minutes, Stinky. Fifteen." He clicked the phone off with a hard press of his finger to the touch screen only to find Nina, her eyes flashing and hot with anger, pinned on him.

She cracked her knuckles, her smile full of menace, her eyes hot and angry. She clapped him so hard on the back, he stumbled forward, falling into the building's brick wall. "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," she cooed. "I get the feeling when you used the word department, you didn't f.u.c.king mean Macy's-you know, like department store? Which means, I gotta yank your Mr. Twinkie off. With my teeth. While you beg for mercy."

CHAPTER 13.

Nina came at him like a freight train, driving into his gut with a head b.u.t.t so brutal it slammed him directly into the brick wall of a bodega. If he hadn't been practicing, he wouldn't have been able to control driving his body straight through it. Rain began to fall in cold sheets of ice, plastering Nina's hoodie to her head and bouncing off Sam's Stetson.

She pinned him against the wall, and he let her, smelling an anger so rife he could have chewed on a piece of it like a cow on cud. "So when were you going to tell Barbie, Sammy?"

His eyes captured hers with a direct gaze, but he kept his hands at his sides, catching Darnell's hesitant gaze just over Nina's shoulder. "As soon as I could be sure she was safe."

Nina threw her middle finger up under his nose, b.u.t.ting his chest with her angular shoulder. "Oh, f.u.c.k you, Sam!" she roared. "Is that even your name, you G.o.dd.a.m.n liar? Do you really play with bugs, or is that just a crock of s.h.i.t, too?"

"Keep the lies to a minimum," he said, choking on the words so often drilled into him. "Yes. My name is really Sam McLean and I was once really an entomologist-before I entered the FBI. Though the apartment we're staying in isn't mine and neither are the people in the pictures on my wall." It was all just a part of another elaborate cover. He caught sight of Darnell just over Nina's shoulder, looking to help, but Sam held a hand up to stop him. Nina deserved a piece of him.

"So now you're some kind of undercover narc, working for a super secret division of the FBI that investigates paranormal activity."

"You heard?"

Nina jammed the heel of her hand against his chest. "You stupid s.h.i.t. Yes, I heard. Vampire hearing, Supernatural 007. Oh, and nice touch, Mulder. You got a Scully lurking somewhere around here? You know, so I can f.u.c.king kill you both at once and save myself some time?"

Time to lay your cards on the table, Sammy. He was getting sloppy because of his attachment to Phoebe, and that aside, his FBI career was over anyway due to his latest life change. Not that it mattered. It was probably over from the moment he'd met Phoebe anyway. "Look, Nina. I was sent into O-Tech to do a job. Sometimes they send us into places like O-Tech undercover to be sure everything's on the up-and-up and they're meeting FDA regulations. You know like the undercover agents they put on airplanes in case of terrorism? It's a random plant. I was getting tired of the c.r.a.p thrown my way in the paranormal division that never amounted to anything. I needed a break from the people I thought were kooks. I fit the bill because I have a degree in entomology. My undercover work had nothing to do with testing some crazy drug on humans. The worst I thought I'd find was maybe some drug smuggling. Not drugs tested on humans. That any of the rest of this happened was all just a coincidence."

"And this coincidence, Sammy, did you happen to mention any of it to the j.a.c.k.o.f.fs you work for?"

"No."

Nina rolled her head on her neck and sneered, flashing her fangs. "Yeah, and why was that? Because if you told them you're a vampire, too, they'd slap your lying a.s.s into some lab somewhere and turn you into exactly what you're trying to prevent happening to more innocent people to begin with. You're the enemy to us, s.h.i.thead. Not to mention, you're sleeping with the FBI's enemy. But the real dilemma is, once you were the hunter, now you're the hunted. Sucks when the shoe's on the other foot, huh, vampire?"

His jaw clenched. "Which is exactly why I haven't reported it to my superiors, Nina. If they knew about me, I couldn't protect you. I can't protect Phoebe if I'm locked up in some highly cla.s.sified government facility."

"Fine, but you know what else that means, Sammy? It means we can't look over our shoulders if we have no clue something else, aside from all the decomposing, rabid vampires, might be coming for us. What the f.u.c.k is wrong with you?" she shouted as rain pelted them in sheets of p.r.i.c.kly ice. "What if one of your schleps came looking for you and found us, too? How can we protect ourselves if you didn't even give us the f.u.c.king chance? I don't much like being lied to, but I like being blindsided even less, dude. You're subject to clan rule now, and the clan won't like this s.h.i.t. I can promise you that much."

He still hadn't moved an inch. Letting Nina have control of this conversation was only fair. "The clan doesn't have to know if you don't tell them. I didn't do this solely for selfish motives, Nina. No. I didn't want to hurt Phoebe. I knew I'd have to tell her eventually, and of course, she'll think everything I've told her so far is all just part of my cover. But if I reveal what I know, and the agency gets ahold of it and finds your connections, even the remotest one, it's not just me that's screwed. It's all of us. Together. So, yes, I lied. Yes. I'd do it again to protect all of you. And let me just make mention of this-aren't you the women with full-fledged ads in magazines and don't you have a website, Twitter, and Facebook accounts? Might I remind you, you're not exactly hiding the existence of OOPS."

Nina ran her tongue over her lower lip, her eyes gleaming slits in her head. "Yeah. And here's the f.u.c.king beauty of that, Sammy. Let's say one of the nutb.a.l.l.s that calls us on a daily basis actually got someone interested in taking a look at what we got goin' on. Let's say they got someone like you to look into it. What the f.u.c.k would you have found when you showed up? Three chicks in a nasty, damp-a.s.s bas.e.m.e.nt office-one really p.i.s.sed off and a little pale, one who dresses like she's Audrey Hepburn, and one who looks like she just came fresh from a Badgely whoever-the-s.h.i.t Mischka photo shoot with a cute, fluffy poodle. Three women-women that they'd label crackpot wing nuts like the dudes that chase UFO sightings and tell people aliens abducted them. Do you really think they'd take us seriously? We'd be the desperate, bored housewives. You'd all go back and have a good laugh over brewskies-and we'd snark you for being stupid. It's hiding in plain sight, Sammy. The only people who take this seriously are the people it really happens to."

Point. Nina was right. No one would have taken women like them seriously. So he remained silent.

"So back to you, Mr. 007. You don't suppose your people won't come looking anyway now that they've lost contact with you?"

Oh, he'd covered that base, and covered it but good. For the moment. "There's nothing to come looking for at this point. I took leave when I told them there was nothing to report at O-Tech. They let me because they clearly aren't suspicious, and they knew I was fried from the job overall."

She poked him in the chest with a finger akin to the end of a drill. "But you're worried now that you're pushing your luck and soon they'll want to rea.s.sign you or some s.h.i.t?"

Sam's nod was curt. Yeah. He was worried. "Which is why I was going to suggest we move to my cabin upstate tonight. Not even the agency knows about it."

"Because then, you'll be just like all of us paranormals. Hiding away from the d.i.c.ks at large. Boy, you covered all your G.o.dd.a.m.n bases, didn't you, FBI guy?" She rolled her tongue in her cheek, posturing.

Sam lifted his Stetson and ran a hand over his face, welcoming the rain on his skin. His disbelief had begun to subside, but the utter astonishment reared its head once more. "Who knew this was really a possibility, Nina? I've been a part of the program for over ten years and we've done a lot of investigating, but I don't think, even in my wildest fantasies, I thought any of it was true. I thought. I dabbled. I toyed with theories. I considered, but most investigations led to nothing but wild speculation. Sometimes there are no investigations to be had aside from the cranks, and we send in the rookies to handle that. Which is why everyone who's a part of the program is offered the opportunity to do various forms of undercover work. So you don't burn out. I've done all sorts of undercover work. Narcotics, missing persons-the gamut."

The harsh wind swept over her sodden jacket, making it ripple and stick to her. "So you being at O-Tech really had nothing to do with suspicious paranormal activity? If you're lyin', I'll kill you."

Sam shook his head. "Nope. It was just a random check. Me ending up bitten was all just some crazy coincidence I still have trouble believing. That vampires and werewolves really exist is beyond surreal. Not to mention, you're not-correction-we're not the animals we've been led to believe. Of all the suspicious reports we've investigated over the years, none of them led me to remotely consider you were shopping at malls and writing romance novels. Who knew you were all just big cuddly teddy bears with sharp teeth?"

Nina clucked her tongue, the tension in her face easing a bit. "First, never call me f.u.c.king cuddly. Second, dude, I feel you. I get it. Never in my wildest did I think this s.h.i.t was real until it happened to me, either. I still wake up sometimes and think it's crazy-a.s.s. But here we are. But not giving us all the information so we can protect ourselves if someone comes looking for you is bulls.h.i.t. Not to mention like a death wish. It doesn't take much more than a trip to the G.o.dd.a.m.n produce section of the grocery store for some garlic to immobilize us, Sam. We might be pretty f.u.c.king scary with all these powers, but if people knew how easy it would be to break us-we'd be broke-a.s.s."

Sam's lips thinned. She was right. He said as much. "You're right. I was wrong."

She flicked the brim of his hat with her finger, sending the rainwater gathered there flying in all directions. "You put us all at risk, Sammy. Today, I don't f.u.c.king like you like I did yesterday."

He nodded his agreement, glad she'd begun to ease off. "I wouldn't vote me in as cla.s.s president, either."

"Oh, I would, fo sho, Sam," Darnell finally chimed in, his smile wet as the rain battered it, his face full of relief. "I bet you got some mad-a.s.s leadership skills."

Sam smiled, but it was filled with irony. Yeah. He had those, and now he didn't want them anymore. "Thanks, Darnell."

"So the cutesy, nerd-is-the-word Sam McLean who's goofy and charming was just playing at it. He's really slicker than black ice and a trained killer, too. Nice, you s.h.i.t. You totally had me."

"d.a.m.n it," he mocked, scuffing the heel of his boot against the glistening pavement. "I can't seem to do charming without goofy. All my superiors say so. That's why I never got the cool international jet-setting gigs. Because my charm just isn't suave enough."

"Bet you look good in a tux, though, man." Darnell held out his fist to Sam, who knocked it.

"It's my job, Nina. No. I'm not as goofy as the Sam you first met who wore a red sparkly dress and heels. But it wasn't all an act. However, I am the Sam who wants everyone's secret to remain safe at all costs. Even if it means revealing myself."

She shook her head back and forth with as much clear irony as Sam was feeling. "I so f.u.c.king want to hate you right now, but your coolness factor just went back up a notch."

Sam smiled again. "X-Files fan?"

"Long before any of my own s.h.i.t went down. Now, when I watch the reruns, I giggle my a.s.s off because you all don't have a f.u.c.kwit's clue."

Oh, irony. "Tell me about it."

Nina took several more steps back, jamming her hands into the pockets of her jeans. "So what're we gonna do here, Gigantor? How are we gonna fix this so Phoebe doesn't think all that slamming each other was just part of your cover? She's a girl. That's exactly where she'll go, brother."

Again, he couldn't hide his astonishment. "You really don't think it's part of my cover?"

She rolled her beautiful eyes and scoffed. "What kind of FBI agent are you? Don't you have a notepad with all your facts and lame misinterpretations about my personality type written in it? You know, right next to your laser scope? I know it's not an act, f.u.c.kwit. I can read minds, remember?"

"Then why didn't you know about me sooner?"

Rolling her tongue in her cheek, Nina clucked her tongue. "I know you'll find this hard to believe, but I've got a code of honor-we all do. I don't get all up in your brain matter without reason. Like when that woman was dying and we needed answers. I use my evil powers for good."

"Honorable."

Her arched eyebrow rose in arrogance. "Unlike someone I know."

Sam winced. "Fair."

Nina's eyes a.s.sessed him. "Phoebe's gonna s.h.i.t a Kenneth Cole."

Yeah. Maybe even a MAC lipstick or two before it was over. "I've been here once before."

"And what happened?"

Helene. They'd been college sweethearts. But not after she'd decided having a family with someone who carried a gun and pretended to be people they weren't was too dangerous for her. "Oh, she dropped me like I had the clap."

Nina nodded. "You loved her?"

"I did."

"You love my sister?"

Whatever this emotion was, it wasn't like any other he'd had before. "I think I'm beginning to. I think you are, too."

She waved a dismissive hand at him, flinging water in his face. "Oh, bulls.h.i.t. Leave me out of this. And what the h.e.l.l is it with you dudes and a chick in heels and a designer skirt?"

"We're gluttons for punishment."

In a matter of seconds, she was back in his face with one last threat. "You'd better tell Phoebe, and tell her soon. Or I will."

"I never doubted it."

"Good." She paused, then smiled. "So, this super-secret branch of the FBI-you seen any aliens? Bigfoot, maybe?" Nina's coal black eyes sparkled with mischief.

Now his eyebrow rose. "Would I win back some cool points if I said yes?" he teased.

"Not unless you could get me a lunch gig with them. Oh, and Mulder. He was sick-hot."

Sam laughed, and it was genuine. For the first time since this had all gone down, it was the kind of laugh he hadn't had in a long time.

But there was still Phoebe. The woman he wanted to protect from the people he'd once thought he was helping to keep the world safe with.

And she was missing.

The moment of light banter pa.s.sed and his gut began to burn with fear for her again. Where the f.u.c.k was Stinky with that info?

"So this Stinky? Do I have to hunt his a.s.s down and f.u.c.king kill him for information? Or will he really call back?"

Sam glanced at his watch. "Oh, he'll call back in ten, nine, eight ..." His voice drifted off when the phone rang.

Shrill and jarring him to his core.

A slender man, fabulously easy on the eye, with the bluest eyes Phoebe could ever remember seeing, stared down at her. His blond hair was slicked back to within an inch of its life, and his white coat was pristine. Beneath his lab coat, he wore a pin-striped shirt in navy and silver, followed up with a red tie. His clipboard rested against his ribs, a Bic pen dangling by a piece of white yarn swaying back and forth.

She slid to a sitting position, swinging her legs over the side of the hospital bed and scooted to the far side of it.

"Ms. Reynolds? How are you feeling?"

Stall, Phoebe, stall. And stop hatching ridiculous plans in your head like you're Siobhan from O'Hara's Faith. She was neither Irish nor blond and busty-or a cop slash escort with cancer of the brain. "Well, I don't know. How would you feel if you had this"-she held up the pillowcase like it had leprosy and wrinkled her nose-"thrown over your head. What kind of kidnappers are so callous they'd use anything less than four-hundred-count thread? I'm insulted by this cheap liaison."

His eyes danced with amus.e.m.e.nt. But it wasn't the kind of amus.e.m.e.nt that was gleeful. It was the cat-and-mouse kind of amus.e.m.e.nt. "My apologies for your harsh entry to our program."

She smiled-probably just a little too bright-while she hooked her feet together at her ankles and let them swing. "Accepted. And now, I think I've decided I'd rather lose my mind to Alzheimer's than spend another minute on this bed-in this room. Who's in charge of paint round here? The blind?" From the bright orange walls to the lone metal chair, there wasn't much that wasn't hideous about her holding room.

He chuckled, thin and high, reaching for her wrist. Phoebe s.n.a.t.c.hed it away.

"Ms. Reynolds? You'll want to cooperate from here on out. Now I need to take your vitals. Please remain still and calm until I'm done."

Vitals? Good luck with that. Her feet hit the floor with a slap. d.a.m.n them. Her heels had fallen off when Thor had been a caveman carrying his pelt to the van. No purse and no heels made for a very disgruntled Phoebe. "Um, no. I said I want to go home. So call me a cab, saddle up the horse and carriage. Whatever it takes, McDreamy."

"I don't understand, Phoebe," he drawled, cooing her name, the smile wreathing his lean face easy and relaxed. "I thought you wanted help with your disease? I can't help you, if you won't let me."

Her eyes narrowed. "Where am I?"

"At the clinical trials, of course."

As her thoughts began to form, she realized she hadn't been in the back of that nasty-smelling van for long. Tops, maybe ten minutes, some of which had been spent with the car standing still. Wherever they were, it wasn't far from Dr. Hornstein's. Speaking of-what a lying, Hippocratic-oath-taking, donkey-ball-sucking pig. "And where is that? You know, like an address. In case I change my mind and want to come back. I'm abysmal at directions, and that isn't just my Alzheimer's talking."

"Somewhere safe where we can begin your journey to health without interruption."

"Well, I've decided I like having Alzheimer's. It's not such a bad thing to forget stuff. I'd like to forget my credit card bill-my weight-my senior prom date. That was an event best left in my box of nightmares. What I was thinking when I said yes to d.i.c.key Callum can only be described as momentary insanity. Oh, and that dress I bought at some cute shop in the village because it was on sale for twelve dollars. Made my a.s.s look like the side of a big red barn. So I'll just be on my way. No journey to health necessary. Now let me out of this room."

"Phoebe, don't make me call for help." He walked toward the wall, his finger hovering over what she supposed was a b.u.t.ton for an intercom.

She shrugged her shoulders with indifference. "Call the National Guard, if you like. But if it's that heathen who slapped me over his shoulder like I was a sack of potatoes you're calling, could you at least ask him to use deodorant? He smelled like a goat."

"How unpleasant." He turned to press the intercom, cool as a cuc.u.mber.

Before she gave it a second's worth of thought, Phoebe jumped off the table in a haze of movement, grabbing his finger and bending it backward, making him drop his clipboard with a mewling squeak.

Booooyah! Her inner Fight Club screamed. I am vampire two point O. Hear me roar.

Clamping her other hand over his mouth, Phoebe reminded herself, physically, she was the superior being. If need be, she'd fight her way out of here. Whatever was on the other side of the door was anyone's guess, but she was d.a.m.ned well going to have the chance to find out. They needed answers. She was in the maniac's lair, and finding the head maniac was crucial.