Maker's Song - In the Blood Part 31

"Who ordered surveillance? Rodriguez?" she asked, tucking the S&W into the back of her jeans.

"No one ordered surveillance."

"That's a good thing, because you suck at it." Heather lowered her .38 to her side. "Your truck is probably visible from s.p.a.ce."

"Ouch." Lyons winced. "To be honest, I was keeping watch-well, I was, until I dozed off. Christ."

Warning tingles p.r.i.c.kled along Heather's spine. Her fingers tightened on the grip of her gun. "Care to explain that?

Watching for what?"

"Apparently, your father can't keep secrets. He spilled the beans about Prejean healing you," Lyons said. "A team's coming to bring you in."

Heather stiffened, her gaze locked onto Lyons's. "You know this how?"

A dark SUV turned onto the street, and Lyons stiffened, studying its progress with narrowed eyes, his hands white- knuckled on the steering wheel. When the SUV cruised past behind Heather, he said, "Could we talk about this inside?"

Heather glanced up the now empty street. Was Lyons telling the truth? She had a feeling he was parceling it out, but even so, it might be information she needed and soon. Returning her gaze to Lyons, she saw genuine weariness on his beard-stubbled face. Portland to Seattle took four hours, less if you floored it and burned up I-5.

"Wouldn't a phone call've been easier?" she asked.

Lyons shook his head. "This is stuff you need to hear face-to-face."

"Okay," she said. "We'll talk inside."

PALMS PRESSED AGAINST THE living room wall, legs spread, Alex kept his gaze on the cream-colored carpet beneath his feet. He felt the drummer with the mane of red braids-Jack-standing beside him, and was pretty d.a.m.ned sure he was still aiming a gun at him.

"Keep any and all smart-a.s.s comments to yourself," Heather Wallace said as she patted him down, sliding her hands along his jeans-clad legs.

"h.e.l.l," Alex muttered. "Talk about killing the mood."

Heather's hands moved sure and quick, with an expert's thoroughness. She retrieved the iPod, his smokes, car keys, cell phone, USB drive, and lighter from his hoodie pockets. He heard clinking and soft thuds as she tossed everything onto the sofa.

"Okay. Turn around," she said.

Alex swiveled around. Shifting her weight onto one hip, Heather studied him, her lovely face all business. Even dressed down in faded boot-cut jeans and a tight cobalt-blue turtleneck, she was s.e.xy. The turtleneck showcased her creamy complexion, vivid blue eyes, and the deep red hair tumbling past her shoulders like a jeweler's velvet cloth.

Behind her on the sofa, the other two members of Prejean's band watched Alex intently, their dark faces somber. To his right was Jack and his gun, to his left the recliner with its throw-shrouded vampire.

"Take off your hoodie," Heather said.

"Why? You already patted me down," Alex said, his fingers hesitating above the zipper. "I'm kinda chilly."

"You can have it back, don't worry."

Not having much of a choice, Alex sighed and nodded. He unzipped the hoodie, pulled it off, and handed it to her.

Brows knitted, Heather stared at his chest, at the INFERNO logo emblazoned on the black T-shirt he wore. She straightened and lifted her gaze to his. Her face was cold, but anger scorched the color of her eyes almost black.

"You were at the show last night."

s.e.xy and p.i.s.sed. "I know you think that I'm playing you-"

A dark smile touched Heather's lips. "Are you trying to pretend that you aren't? You followed us here from Vespers," she said. "Am I wrong?"

"No," Alex allowed. On his right, Jack stepped closer. Alex held up a hand, palm out. "I told you the truth. They're coming for you."

"So when were you planning on warning me?" Heather asked. "Before or after they dragged me away?"

"Who's dragging who away?"

Alex glanced to the right. Heather's sister stood in the hallway's mouth, blue-purple-black hair tousled, and wearing only a purple tank top and black bikini-cut panties. She gave him the once-over, curiosity in her blue eyes.

"Morning, Annie," Heather said. "Get a robe on."

"I don't have one."

"Use mine."

"Fine."

But Annie didn't move. Instead, she leaned against the wall, hands behind her back, hips out, and watched.

"Eyes front and center, Lyons."

Alex looked at Heather. Fire still burned in her eyes. She tossed his hoodie back to him. "Now's the time. Spill. Tell me everything."

Alex shrugged the hoodie on, then trailed a hand through his curls. He felt Jack shift beside him. "They got word that Dante Prejean-"

"Baptiste," Heather murmured. "His name's Baptiste. And who's 'they'?"

"The SB."

Heather lifted an eyebrow and folded her arms under her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Alex could just imagine what she was thinking: No such thing. Or, This guy's full of s.h.i.t.

"The Shadow Branch exists and some of its projects intersect with the Bureau's."

"Bad Seed," Heather said, skepticism fading from her face.

Alex nodded. "Exactly. Your dad contacted a member of the SB and told this person that Dante Baptiste saved your life without using his blood. So the SB decided to bring you in for tests to determine what he did to you. And how."

Heather glanced toward the hall. "Annie," she said softly. "Go get my robe."

Face stricken, Heather's sister padded down the dark hall. When Alex returned his attention to Heather, she was rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"What do they have planned for Dante?" she said, dropping her hand. "Are they gonna try to pick him up too?"

"I need to talk to Dante," Alex said. "What I have to say is for him alone."

The dark smile returned to Heather's lips. "Why am I not surprised?"

"I'm on your side, Heather. Yours and Dante's."

"Somehow I doubt that. And you're mistaken if you think we're going to let you talk to Dante alone."

We're? Alex's gaze skipped around the room, from face to face-white, cream-in-coffee, black-each was watchful and serious and hard. A worm of doubt wriggled into Alex's mind. Had he made an error in judgment by allowing Heather to find him?

"Sit on the sofa," Heather said, stepping aside. "Get comfy. You're gonna be waiting for a while." She glanced at Jack.

"Keep an eye on him."

"d.a.m.n straight," the drummer said.

Heather walked from the room and into the kitchen. Alex heard her rummaging through drawers. Jack motioned at the sofa with the gun. "Sit, you."

Alex sat at the unoccupied end and did as Heather had suggested, making himself as comfortable as possible. She returned a few minutes later with a roll of duct tape and, kneeling, carefully bound his wrists together.

She regarded him for a long, silent moment before standing. "Do you know how long we have?"

Alex met her gaze and knew he'd lose her completely if he didn't give her something. "I killed the pickup team," he confessed, keeping his voice low. "I bought you some time, but I don't know how much. Maybe a day, maybe two."

Heather sucked in a breath. "Why would you do that?"

"I like you and I hated the thought of what would happen to you if they succeeded." He glanced toward the empty hall.

"And because you have a sister who needs you like mine needs me."

"What else do you know about me?"

"Everything."

"Just everything on record," Heather said, then stood and walked away, her .38 tucked into the back of her jeans once again.

True, but Alex had a feeling it would be more than enough.

32 REVELATIONS.

Seattle, WA March 24

A LOW, DEEP INHALATION drew Heather's attention from the box she was packing at the dining room table. Von pushed the throw off and, yawning, stretched. She noted with amus.e.m.e.nt that even stripped down for Sleeping-black jeans, socks, and white wifebeater-he still wore his double shoulder holsters.

Bet anything he was a scout when he was mortal, checking the road ahead for his clan, searching for welcome or danger.

Von sniffed the air and was on his feet and at the sofa before Heather realized he'd even moved from the recliner. Attention on the napping Lyons, Von said, "Who's Sleeping Beauty?"

"SAC Alex Lyons," she answered. "I caught him spying on the house."

"Once again, paranoia pays off. So what's the plan?"

"Good question," Heather said, tucking the box's flaps closed. "He knows about Bad Seed and who's behind it. I'm not sure who he's working for. He claims no one sent him, but I don't find that very rea.s.suring, y'know?"

"I hear ya, doll." A pause, then, "Bad Seed, huh?"

The quiet menace in Von's voice snapped Heather's head up. He leaned over Lyons, his hands knuckled into hard fists, his jaw tight. "He one of the a.s.sholes who messed with Dante?"

"I don't think so," Heather said. Wiping her dusty hands against her jeans, she stepped around the table and walked into the front room. She stopped beside Von. "But he does have information."

The nomad's gaze was fixed on Lyons's throat. "Info, huh? Stuff we need, no f.u.c.king doubt."

"No doubt," Heather agreed. "He says he needs to speak to Dante alone."

Von snorted. "That ain't happening." He straightened, then rolled back his shoulders. Exhaled. His hands relaxed.

"Spy Man also said some team was coming for Heather," Jack tossed into the conversation. "But he intercepted them. Said he killed them, he did."

Heather glanced over her shoulder. The drummer sauntered from the kitchen, pulling the Browning from the back of his jeans as he crossed the room. He handed the gun back to Von.

The nomad holstered the Browning. He looked at Heather, c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. "That's twice, darlin'. I ain't gonna put up with it a third time."

Whistling innocently, Jack whirled and returned to the kitchen where Eli and Antoine worked at the counter making sandwiches for the evening flight home.

"Second time, what?" Heather asked.

"Second time you neglected to mention you were in trouble too."

Heather stared at him. All playfulness had vanished from Von's green eyes. "I...it wasn't intentional...I was worried about Dante, and I..." Her words trailed off. It had never occurred to her to tell Von about the trouble she was facing. Never occurred to her that they had more than Dante in common. But, judging by the nomad's ain't-brooking-no-nonsense expression, they did.

She felt a smile tip up the corners of her mouth.

"Sorry about that," she said, meaning it. "It won't happen again."

Von nodded, then shifted his gaze back to the man on the sofa. "So he claims he put the smackdown on the bad guys, huh?

Whattaya think, doll? He telling the truth?"

"Yes." Heather remembered the steadiness of Lyons's gaze. "That I believe."

Von glanced around the room. "Looks like you're packing."