Nocturnal Part 24

Bob and I both squeaked when someone grabbed my hair and yanked me upright. Ace held me in place, holding up my cell phone as he took a conversational pitch.

"Which number will get me through to one of the leeches you've been working with?"

I glared, not answering until he started twisting his wrist, pulling some of my hair out by the roots. Wincing, I spat out an answer. "Angus! His name is Angus."

"Good. When I hold out the phone, you'll beg Angus to come save you." He pulled away, leaving me to fall heavily back to the floor.

I was afraid I'd crushed Bob until I felt him wriggle frantically in my hands. He went back to work at the ropes around my wrists while Ace pulled Angus up on my phone.

The hunter paced slowly nearby, glancing down at us every now and then. A slight smile widened to a predatory grin as someone picked up on the other end.

"No, this isn't Sara. She's here, though."

Ace crouched down and held the phone by my face. I screamed out as quickly as I could, "Don't listen to him, it's a trap!"

The hunter backhanded me. I vaguely heard him continue speaking through the starbursts of pain flashing in my skull.

"Listen, leech, and listen close. If you want her to live, and you don't want a media frenzy on your hands, you'll come to the old Bessie's Best Meats Building by the waterfront in the next hour. Bring five hundred grand, cash, and leave the cops out of it, or this old packing plant is going to see some fresh blood tonight. Get it?"

Without waiting for an answer, he hung up and grinned down at me. "Well, that should do for starters. Do what I say next time. Less pain in it for you."

A strange clicking sound echoed in the darkness. Ace's attention jerked around as he and his three henchmen spread around us in a semicircle, lifting their weapons. A voice floated out of the shadows, echoing in the empty s.p.a.ce.

"Next time you want to spill innocent blood, do it on someone else's turf."

"Jack," Ace said, the tension running out of his shoulders. He sounded genuinely glad to see the White Hat, he and his men lowering their weapons. "What are you doing out here? Didn't Morgan tell you we were going to be using the place tonight?"

Jack stepped into the light, holding what I was fairly certain was an illegal a.s.sault rifle on Ace. He was followed by a number of other White Hats; far more men than Ace had at his back. None of them looked happy to see the AOAs, and all of them were brandishing weapons.

Ace frowned. "What's going on here, Jack?"

"Morgan didn't get my permission. He was never supposed to come back here." Jack's eyes narrowed to thin slivers, icy blue orbs glinting dangerously. "Neither were you."

The other hunter took a step back, raising his hands. "Hey, hey, let's talk this over. We're right in the middle of-"

Jack cut him off. "I know what you're in the middle of. I won't have you or Morgan killing more innocent people. That's not what we stand for. You knew that when we kicked you out of New York, just like Morgan did. You've just violated the terms of your amnesty."

With a curse, Ace dove to the side, tossing my phone away as he went for a weapon. I grimaced as the cell shattered into pieces, skittering out of sight into the dark. Before I had time to mourn the loss of my phone, the place was suddenly ringing out with gunshots. I squeezed my eyes shut and huddled against Arnold, praying it would be over soon.

One of the AOAs tripped and fell over me. Bullets pinged off the cement, the weapons' firing punctuated by screams and curses.

In a moment it was over, though it was hard to tell through the ringing in my ears. I opened my eyes at a renewed tugging on my wrist. Just before Jack knelt down to cut the bonds off my ankles, the ones at my wrists snapped free, and Bob rushed back to huddle by Arnold's cheek.

The White Hat didn't say anything, though he arched a brow at the sight of the mouse. While he went to work on Arnold, one of his buddies freed Joe. I rubbed my wrists and looked around.

Through the lingering haze of gun smoke, I could see one of the AOAs had fallen to the ground behind us. A spreading pool of blood and his stillness told me he was dead. Two others were on their knees with their hands up, a number of White Hats holding weapons on them.

Ace was also under heavy guard, lying on the ground a few yards away and clutching at his shoulder. He was snarling and spitting curses, but not moving from where he'd fallen. Another White Hat was frisking him, tossing an extraordinary number of weapons into a growing pile out of his reach.

I jerked around at a touch to my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Arnold's worried gaze turned to surprise as I threw my arms around him, pulling him into a ragged kiss. It hurt, but the pain was soon forgotten when he started kissing me back, lips tasting of peppermint moving hungrily over mine as his hands tangled in my hair. His touch felt like fire against my skin, a different kind of warmth and electric buzz that quickly built between us, making all the pain and fear fade away into an afterthought. I breathed in his scent, the pleasant tickle of ash now mixed with the ozone of unspent magic and tang of sweat.

In that moment, I knew that Arnold was right-he was nothing like the sorcerer, David, and nothing at all like Mark. Pressed so close, feeling the minute tremble of his limbs and the desperation in his touch matching mine, we were as much acknowledging our survival as our need for each other. That uncomfortable sensation when we touched was suddenly something deliciously pleasant, tracing strange patterns over my skin. Intimacy with a mage was a totally new experience for me, one I was suddenly eager to investigate. His urgency was mine, sparking a keen sense of desire to know every line and curve and contour of his body.

A loud "ahem!" interrupted us, and we reluctantly parted, turning matching sheepish looks to Jack.

"Well. I'm glad to see you two are all right," Jack said. He seemed to be trying to hide a smile, though he wasn't doing a terribly good job of it.

"How the h.e.l.l did you find us?" Arnold asked.

"One of my sources got the information on Morgan's plan. I know he's headed to The Underground, but when I heard he was sending someone here, I knew he was planning to repeat history. I didn't know you were the ones involved, but I didn't want any more dead people on my turf." Jack held out a hand to each of us, helping Arnold and me to our feet. Joe was already standing shakily to one side, another White Hat holding his arm to steady him. "We had this warehouse long before Morgan joined the White Hats. I knew he'd come back here because it's one of the few places he could use for a setup like this."

"It's not over," I said, sliding an arm around Arnold's waist. "He's planning on killing a bunch of people at The Underground. We've got to stop him."

"Not our problem," Jack said, heading over to where Ace was struggling and busying himself with helping another White Hat tie up and gag the AOA.

I gaped at him. "What do you mean, 'not our problem'? Why are you even here, then?"

"I meant to save the innocents and I did," Jack replied, not bothering to look at me as he tightened the knots around Ace's wrists. "Anyone at that club knew they were walking into the lion's den."

Stumbling, I pulled away from Arnold and grabbed Jack by the back of his shirt. His men started muttering, hands going to their weapons, but he waved them off and looked up at me.

"You self-righteous son of a b.i.t.c.h. You think saving us exempts you from what happened with Morgan before? Not just one or two, but dozens dozens of people could die tonight. Just because they're hanging out at a vamp-run bar doesn't mean they don't deserve to be saved. What kind of excuse do you need to help them, huh?" of people could die tonight. Just because they're hanging out at a vamp-run bar doesn't mean they don't deserve to be saved. What kind of excuse do you need to help them, huh?"

He looked up at me, the twinkle in his eye completely at odds with the fierce grin twisting his lips. "Thought you'd never ask. Owe us-the White Hats-a favor. One to be called in at a later time."

That gave me pause. Owing a favor to these crazy hunters could be detrimental to my health. Maybe more so than it had been when Shiarra worked for The Circle. Still-if owing them a debt meant saving lives, it was a burden I was willing to endure.

Scowling, I nodded.

Jack stood up and thrust some things at me-the personal items Ace had taken from us back at Joe's office. "Good. Devon, call the cops." A guy in a deep-red bomber jacket nodded, pulling out a cell phone. "Tell them there's a package here waiting for pickup."

While Devon made the call, Jack dragged Ace by the collar over to the other trussed-up AOAs. Once he'd dropped his burden, Jack brushed off his jeans and hefted his rifle up on his shoulder. "Let's go."

"Wait."

The command was soft, gravelly, but we all paused in our tracks as Joe shuffled forward. One of his eyes was swollen shut, his grimace more pitiful than frightening under the mask of dried blood. He limped over to where Ace was twisting halfheartedly in his bonds and glaring at us.

The PI kicked Ace in the face, blood spraying from the hunter's nose as he fell to the side.

Joe smiled, rolling his shoulders and standing up straight. Dried chips of blood flaked off as he rubbed a hand over his stubble.

"Man, that felt good. Okay, now now we can go." we can go."

Chapter 14.

We hurried into the White Hats' waiting cars. A couple of the hunters loaned Joe and me weapons: a hefty-looking Desert Eagle and a machete for Joe, and a couple of daggers and a Smith & Wesson 500 for me. Arnold declined when they offered him a gun, sharing an inscrutable look with Jack.

Traffic made it take forever to crawl the measly distance between the old warehouse and The Underground. Weekend revelers were out for a night on the town, leaving the streets of the meatpacking district jammed. When we were within a couple blocks of the club, idling at a light, Jack told the driver to find parking and gestured for us to follow as he jumped out of the car.

I was vaguely aware of other White Hats around us, following in our wake. When I noticed they held their jackets and flannel shirts closed, hiding their weapons, I did the same. We ran the rest of the way to the club, though there was no sign anything untoward had happened-yet. People were lined up out front, waiting to get in, and men whose security shirts strained across ma.s.sive chests guarded the door and directed people around the yellow caution tape from the earlier crime scene. Valets scurried this way and that as they tended to visitors' cars.

Clearly the murder hadn't done much to hurt business.

People in the line shifted and muttered, quieting once we halted in front of the guards. One of them frowned down at me, his eyes widening in recognition. "Aren't you-"

"Yes, I am." I frantically gestured at the door. "We've got to get inside! The Anti-Other Alliance is here, they were just waiting for Angus to leave. Is he still here?"

He shook his head, patting down his pockets and pulling out a cell phone. "Miss, those are White Hats behind you. We've got standing orders not to allow them on the premises. Jack Thornton, you're violating the terms of the restraining order Mr. Royce filed against you. I'm going to have to ask you all to leave."

Jack smiled, the expression more a vicious baring of teeth than a friendly overture. "We're here to help Sara. Just for tonight, we're on your side. The AOA should have infiltrated this club and started killing people already. Are you sure you don't want us here?"

The guard didn't answer right away, fingering his phone before stepping aside to call someone. Jack didn't wait; he ducked past and inside, the rest of us following despite the protests and shouts behind us. Some of the other White Hats kept security busy while the rest of us rushed down the hall that led into the club proper and toward the first bar.

Inside, there was no sign of panic. A few patrons were mingling near the entrance, watching us over their drinks. A mult.i.tude of brows, many encrusted with metal and jewels that winked and shone in the muted lighting, rose upon our entrance, making it clear our presence was hardly welcome. Our jeans, pressed slacks, T-shirts, and b.u.t.ton-downs looked entirely out of place in this crowd. The murmur of voices was drowned out against a heavy techno beat, though a few exclamations could be heard when some of the White Hats drew their weapons.

One of the bartenders brushed Day-Glo green tendrils out of his eyes, glaring at us as he shouted over the pulse of music. "You people don't belong in here! Head out before I call the cops."

Jack ignored him, scanning faces at and around the bar. Not satisfied, he dashed off, the rest of us following. The bartender picked up a phone before we were out of the room, watching us go with a mixture of fright and defiance.

For some reason, the White Hat knew the layout of the club very well. After shoving his way through a crowd of startled, angry dancers, he led us straight to a "Staff Only" door beside a stage. Without pause, he kicked it in, splintering the cheap wood around the lock and rushing inside. The hall was lined with doors, and as we pa.s.sed, I noted many of them were labeled as dressing rooms. Protesting shouts and pounding feet sounded behind us, but when I looked back, all I saw were a few shocked, half-dressed people peering into the pa.s.sage.

There was a sound of scuffling and a few shouts before Arnold and I reached the end of the hall. There were two doors-one for storage, and one for a staff break room. A couple of White Hats checked the storage room while Jack went into the break room. Arnold and I had barely cleared the door before several White Hats pinned a couple of guys whom I a.s.sumed were AOA members on the floor. When I glanced in the other direction, I had to cover my mouth not to be sick at the sight.

We were too late; they'd gotten to some of the donors already, shoving them like an afterthought into the back of the storage closet. I recognized one of the attendants from the parking lot earlier in the evening, his features distorted with panic behind the clear plastic bag over his head. Suffocated so no scent of spilled blood would draw the attention of vampires. It was the same kid who had freaked out when he saw his dead friend on the ground.

Someone who wouldn't have been missed.

I closed my eyes and turned away. It took a few deep breaths taken slow and easy to keep from hyperventilating. Arnold's arms sliding around my waist was a comfort, but a small one. We were too late.

"Cold b.a.s.t.a.r.ds," Joe remarked, wheezing. He was holding his gun with both hands, but it still trembled. "d.a.m.n it, I never should've given them floor plans. This is my fault."

"No, it isn't. They would've done this with or without your help," Jack said, clapping the PI lightly on the shoulder. He urged Joe into a chair, and the man sat down without protest. From his gray-faced pallor, shock was catching up with him.

Some new security guards caught up with us, weapons held at the ready as they shouted commands from the end of the hall.

Jack waved everyone else aside and stepped out of the break room, holding his hands up. He called out, calm and reasonable, nothing like I would've expected after what Shiarra and Arnold had told me about him. Those on the security team who weren't busy clearing some s.p.a.ce on the dance floor seemed surprised, stopping their shouting long enough to listen to what Jack had to say.

"Hey, we're here to help. Look in the closet-we caught a couple of the guys responsible."

After a brief debate with each other, one of the guards edged his way down, keeping his gun on us. We backed out of the way, giving him room to see. At the sight of the bodies in the closet, he stumbled back, putting up his weapon.

"Holy s.h.i.t! You know who did this?"

"The Anti-Other Alliance," Jack said, slowly lowering his hands.

The other guards cautiously made their way down the hall. Some of the people in the changing rooms were peering out at us again, curiosity written all over their features.

"Russell Morgan is here somewhere. He's the one behind this."

"The cops will be here soon," the first guard said, his features gone pasty white. He couldn't drag his gaze off the floor of the storage closet. "Somebody else call Angus, tell him to get back here, now now."

"We need to keep looking. Morgan and the others are probably still here."

"No need," someone growled from one of the changing rooms. Morgan stepped into view, a gun held to the temple of a slender, immaculately dressed vampire whose eyes were shot through with red. The vampire looked thin and frail next to the hunter's bulk, trembling as he stumbled forward. "Keep these people out of my way, and no one else will get hurt."

"Ken!" someone squealed.

The vampire flinched when the gun pressed harder against his temple. The burly hunter held him by the back of his collar, dragging him along as he edged toward the doorway leading onto the dance floor. Morgan's dark eyes flashed with anger from behind stray strands of unkempt hair, his rough features twisted in a snarl. The worried security guards lowered their weapons and backed up out of the way, giving Morgan room.

"You shouldn't have come here, Jack," Morgan said, scowling at the White Hat. Jack didn't reply, except for the slight twitch of his hand over the handle of a hunting knife on his belt. "After tonight, walk away. Don't involve yourself in this any more than you have."

"It's too late for that," Jack replied, darting forward. Arnold and I stumbled out of his way as he pushed us aside. Bob dropped off Arnold's shoulder, but I didn't see where he disappeared to in the scuffle. My attention was focused on Morgan and his hostage.

Morgan whipped the gun off the vampire's temple, but his first shot went wide as Jack plowed into him. Instead of catching him in the chest, the bullet nicked the White Hat's arm. The blond vampire skittered back into his dressing room and screams sounded from the dance floor, lingering revelers rushing away as the two hunters grappled. The pounding music was replaced with shouted orders to be calm and head to the nearest exit, overlaid by the cries of panicked patrons.

The security guards had their weapons out but couldn't shoot for risk of hitting Jack or one of their own people farther down the hall. Jack was fast and strong, but Morgan was bigger and tougher, and had no qualms about fighting dirty. Morgan got Jack's feet out from under him and followed him to the floor, though they were still too busy fighting over the gun to go for other weapons. Jack's arms were shaking, the gun slowly working its way to his face; Morgan's superior strength, coupled with the wound and blood loss, were overpowering him.

There were too many people in the hallway behind us for me or Arnold to escape. I would've gone for my own gun, but Arnold pulled me up tight against him, one arm around my waist, the other held out in front of us as he chanted something under his breath. A wall of energy lifted between us and the hunters just before Morgan's pistol went off a second time, the bullet whining in ricochet as it bounced off the shield.

It proved to be enough of a distraction for Angus to dash forward, bodily yanking Morgan off of Jack and pinning him up against the wall. The vampire moved so fast, he was nothing more than a blur until he came to a stop with the human held so high the top of his head brushed the ceiling. Eyes that matched the bright red of his beard and wild locks glared into the vainly struggling AOA's own.

"That's enough o' yer shenanigans, bucko," he snarled, ignoring the faint choking sounds Morgan was making. "Ye'll be goin' away for a long time, I wager."

Arnold let the shield drop, and I sagged in relief before pulling away to see to Jack, who was sitting up and clutching his injured arm. He didn't take his eyes off of Angus, who was barking out orders at the guards cl.u.s.tering around us.

"You okay, Jack?"

He finally looked at me, a mix of hatred and terror settling into an expression of pain and sheepishness instead. "I'll be fine. 'Tis but a scratch; I've had worse."

Nonplussed at his Holy Grail Holy Grail reference, I shook my head and helped him up to his feet, Arnold coming up on the other side of him to help support his weight. As we headed back to the break room to get some chairs and wait for the police, some of the bystanders who'd been watching from the changing rooms came out to follow us. Words of thanks and admiration for our help made me smile, and I detected the rosy hue of a blush high on Jack's otherwise pale cheeks. reference, I shook my head and helped him up to his feet, Arnold coming up on the other side of him to help support his weight. As we headed back to the break room to get some chairs and wait for the police, some of the bystanders who'd been watching from the changing rooms came out to follow us. Words of thanks and admiration for our help made me smile, and I detected the rosy hue of a blush high on Jack's otherwise pale cheeks.

He didn't say anything the entire time, keeping his eyes averted even after we found a chair next to Joe for him to settle in. His blush deepened when Ken, the vampire he'd saved from Morgan, enthusiastically pumped his good hand and sang his praises, particularly at the part about how brave he was for facing off against "that awful brute." Most of the other White Hats in the room were having difficulty keeping a straight face as Ken clucked over his wound, fussing at Jack's reticence to let him see to it. A few of the hunters didn't bother to mask their snickers.

Jack looked to Arnold in horror when the vampire offered to take him to dinner and introduce him to his better half, a gentleman by the name of Reece Castle.

Chuckling, Arnold pressed a kiss to my cheek and pulled away. "I'll be back in a moment."

With all the people crowding into the room, I hadn't noticed John right away. He'd waited until Arnold busied himself elsewhere to sidle over, the vampire's cold fingers closing around my hand, startling me.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to frighten you," he said, radiating false warmth and sincerity. I barely resisted the urge to curl my lip in distaste. "I was worried something happened to you after Angus got that call. Are you all right? You weren't hurt, were you?"