“Gotcha.” Pulling “yummy” faces behind Deacon’s back as he walked out to make another call, Ellie gave Sara the thumbs-up.
It was impossible not to smile, but that smile was gone by the time she reached the bike and Deacon. “It has to be Marco. And if not, we’re in deep shit.” Because that meant they had an unknown crazy out there.
“I just checked with Simon. Shah left the city two hours ago, so if there’s another killing . . .” He shook his head. “We can’t wait for that. It’s time to play hardball with Marco.”
“You think you can break him?”
Deacon’s face was a grim mask. “Yeah.”
It should’ve scared her. It didn’t. Because she knew how to play hardball, too. “Let’s do it.” Getting on the bike, she took the helmet he held out. “After this is over, I want a shower in a really big bathroom.”
“I’ll get us the penthouse.”
“What makes you think you’ll be sharing it with me?”
“I live in hope.”
Oh, she definitely wanted to keep him, she thought, as they closed the gate behind themselves and headed out. Maybe there was a way to make it work? But she knew there wasn’t. She could hardly see Deacon in a tux at some “do.” And the Guild Director had to play politics. Nobody liked a powerful presence like the Guild in the city, but that wariness could be turned into respect and even welcome by a little subtle maneu-vering.
A long time ago, the Guild had chosen the veil of secrecy. The end result had been a spate of Guild-burnings that had razed many a chapter building to the ground, killing a devastating number of hunters in the process. No one wanted a repeat of that.
Suddenly conscious that Deacon had dramatically reduced his speed, she twisted to peer around one muscular arm. “Oh, no fucking way.” Pulling off her helmet, she stood on the back of the bike, using Deacon’s shoulder for balance. “You yielded,” she told the vampire standing in the middle of the road. “This time, we’ll be aiming to kill.”
7
“Milady, you misunderstand me.” A serious expression. “I have need of the Guild’s services.”
Sara really didn’t feel like helping someone who’d tried to separate her head from her body not that long ago, but hunters existed for a reason. “Someone run out on a Contract?”
“No. One of your hunters has taken one of us captive. If you would please organize a rescue, we’d be most grateful.”
She squeezed Deacon’s shoulder. No way was this a coincidence. As she sat back down, Deacon maneuvered the bike to the side of the road. “Talk,” they both ordered at the same time.
“Silas,” the vampire said, shifting to stand on the sidewalk beside them, “had a relationship with the hunter. Unbeknownst to anyone, they went their separate ways two weeks ago.”
Around the time the killings started.
“The hunter’s name is Marco Giardes.” The vampire spread his hands. “I have no idea of what happened between the two of them. But I received a message from Silas a few minutes ago stating that Marco was holding him captive in the basement of his home.”
Sara wondered if Marco had guessed at her and Deacon’s true motives after all. Something had to have triggered this. “Did he say how long he’d been there?”
“Silas walked into the hunter’s bar an hour ago with his new inamorato.” He snorted. “He is young, thinks being a vampire makes him invincible.” A meaningful rub at the shoulder she’d wounded.
“Damn vampire wanted to rub Marco’s face in his new affair.” Sara almost felt sorry for Marco. Almost. Because if everything this vampire was saying was right, then Marco had gone out and killed five other men, none of whom had done anything to him. Not to mention how he’d terrified Rodney. “Do you have any other information?”
“Silas’s new lover is no more.” A shrug. “Silas got the message out before Marco realized he had a second cell phone. I’ve received no messages since, so the hunter has likely remedied that.”
Deacon stared at the vamp. “If you know where he is, why aren’t you mounting a rescue? You have a big enough group.”
A long pause. The vampire looked up, then down, lowered his voice. “Raphael was not pleased when he found out about the attack on Sara. We are not his people. He has forbidden us from doing anything in his territory except that which relates to our departure—even feeding.” A long, shuddering sigh. “We’re to leave on the first plane out of the country.”
“Silas is a tourist?” Sara asked, rapidly thinking through her options.
“Marco met him during a hunt. Silas came to be with him.” Another glance upward. “We would appeal to our archangel for help, but he doesn’t particularly care for Silas.”
Sara didn’t trust the vampire an inch, but she had a feeling he was telling the truth about Marco and Silas. There was a layer of concern in his voice that betrayed an obvious affection for the younger vampire. That wasn’t as weird as it sounded. Vampires had once been human, after all—it took a long time for the echoes to fade entirely.
“Fine.” She put her helmet back on. “I guess it’s time for the Guild to ride to the rescue.”
Deacon started the engine in silence and they headed off, leaving the vampire standing at the curb. “I think he was straight with us,” she said. “You?”
“It fits with what we know.” His voice was an intimate darkness in her ear. “Looks as if Raphael likes you.”
“I’ve never met him. Or even talked to him on the phone.” She drew in a deep breath. “I don’t think it has anything to do with me.”
“No?”
“No.” She knew exactly where humans ranked in the scheme of things as far as archangels were concerned. Somewhere below ants. “It’s the fact that some other archangel tried to horn in on his territory. He’s pissed.” And when an archangel got pissed, things got brutal. “Did you hear what he did to that vampire in Times Square?”
A slow nod from Deacon. “Broke every bone in his body and left him there. As a warning. He was alive throughout, the poor bastard.”
“So you see why I don’t ever want Raphael to take an interest in my welfare.”
Deacon didn’t say anything, but they both knew that as Guild Director, she’d have a much higher chance of attracting Raphael’s attention than an ordinary hunter. But still, how many times did an archangel contact any human directly? Sara had never heard of it. They ran everything from their towers.
Manhattan’s Archangel Tower dwarfed everything in the entire state. Sara had often sat in Ellie’s way-too-expensive apartment and watched the angels flying in and out. Their feet, she thought, likely never touched the earth. “You know, I think Ellie’s got a higher chance of meeting an archangel than I do.”
“Why?”
“Just a feeling.” A prickling across the back of her neck, a kiss of the “eye” her great-grandmother claimed to possess. “Think we should call her for backup?”
“If Marco’s in there alone, we can take him. Let’s check things out first—I don’t want to panic him.” A pause. “Though it sounds like Silas is no prize.”
“Yeah. But Marco hurt Rodney, who’s about as dangerous as your average rabbit.” She hoped his master hadn’t been too hard on him. And that Mindy the Bitch had gotten her head torn off.
“We’re here.” He pulled over and parked. “The bar should be closed.”
Stowing the helmets, they headed to the bar . . . only to come to an abrupt halt when a little old lady on her way down from farther along the street stared at them and backed away very fast. Sara looked at Deacon, really looked. Big, sexy, loaded up with weapons . . . and stained rust red. “Oops.”
He smiled, slow and with a glint that said he was thinking about getting naked. With her. “We better wrap this up before the police arrive and all hell breaks loose.”
Nodding, she shoved aside the thought of soaping up his delicious body and picked up the pace. “How’re we getting into the basement?”