Читать книгу Seduced by Blood - Laurie London - Страница 11

VENTRA CAPELLI KNEW that her days were numbered—not just as the Seattle area sector mistress, but in general. The Darkblood brass wasn’t pleased that one of their most profitable companies had been destroyed and that two sector masters had been killed because of her.

The man across the table from her lifted the wineglass, swirled the contents for a moment, then brought it to his lips. “I’m sure you can understand my position.”

“Yes, of course.” Ventra twisted one of her priceless sapphire earrings, a gift to herself when she’d been appointed sector mistress. It was a tangible reminder of her success.

The whole thing was not her fault and yet she was being blamed for it. Consequently, her superiors felt she was a weak and ineffective leader. And that pissed her off.

How was she to know that the Guardians had an insider working for the company? As a result, one of them had sneaked onto the yacht and killed the two sector masters just as she was presenting a business idea to them. If she hadn’t held that sweetblood girl for leverage, she’d have been charcoaled, too. It was the only thing that had saved her.

Although she’d love to get her hands on the Guardian who did the killing—she’d never encountered a living vampire who had the powers he did—the real enemy was his superior, who’d orchestrated and approved the whole thing. He was the one she wanted, because once that thorn in her side was out of the picture, the rest of them would be easy pickings.

She resisted the urge to nervously touch her earring again. Instead, she folded her hands carefully in her lap and watched her guest.

“This really is quite lovely,” he said after taking a sip.

“Thank you.”

Ventra was completely aware that Loric Rayne, second in command under the new Overlord, held her fate in his hands. These next few moments were crucial.

Even though her two loyal bodyguards were stationed just behind the dining room doors, she didn’t want to have to use them, for if she did and Rayne was killed, she’d forever be on the run from the Alliance. Her future in the organization was teetering on the edge of a blade right now and it was because of those goddamned Guardians. All she’d ever wanted was respect and they’d taken that from her. Those self-appointed protectors of their people had no real authority anyway. Centuries ago, they’d usurped the power from the old ones, convincing their people that humans and vampires could exist peacefully, yet secretly, side by side. Well, that was bullshit. There was a reason vampires had fangs and a craving for blood. Because they were meant to feed from humans, not make friends with them.

Rage erupted inside her, but she didn’t let it show on her face. On the outside, she was as calm and cool as a glass of ice water—sparkling, with two twists of lime and a fancy little umbrella—but inside, she was a boiling caldron of oil. “I’d be happy to show you how I prepare it.”

“You didn’t import it?” He swirled his glass again and watched how the blood clung to the sides like a fine wine. “It’s got quite a zip to it. More than I’d have expected from the supply up here.”

“No, sir. Harvested from a local human under a technique I came up with.”

Because the UV levels in the Northwest were fairly low, the energy in the indigenous population was low as well—a big reason most vampires hated living too far north. But if the host was exposed to several hours of UV light—either a full spectrum tanning bed or a sunny day—their blood was infused with more energy than what was typical here. Not quite to the levels you’d find in humans down South, but much better than one pulled directly off the street and drained. A little patience and prep work always paid off in the end. Other vampires were willing to pay more for the fortified stuff and although it wasn’t as good as Sweet—hell, nothing was as good as Sweet—the supply was much more plentiful, which meant a lot more money in her, and the Darkbloods’, coffers.

“Yes, I’m very curious. I’d like to see how you do it sometime.”

Her tightly knotted shoulders relaxed just a touch. The fact that he referenced a sometime meant that there was hope for her within the organization. Maybe he didn’t come to Seattle to kill her after all and she would be given a chance to make things right. She had a few things in place already, and if given the chance by her superiors, she’d strike the Guardians when they least expected it.

After I get through with them, they’ll wish they had the agreement some of their other field offices have with the Alliance.

“As I was saying,” Rayne said, his gaze wandering to the center of the table, “you’ve put me in a precarious spot. I went to bat for you in Prague, believing you had what it took to exploit the Seattle area to its fullest. Blood raves, blood clubs, pinpointing our target market through that video game, and Sweet addictions on the rise. I had high hopes for you, Ventra, but I’m afraid you’ve greatly disappointed me. Your failures don’t sit well with the Overlord. And when he’s not happy, I’m not happy.”

Setting down his now empty glass, he reached for the centerpiece, which was laid out on a plastic sheet covering the table. “But I’m willing to give you another chance.” With the pads of his fingers, he caressed the skin of the donor host’s belly with great care.

When the female whimpered, Ventra shot her a withering look that said “Move a muscle and I kill you and your sister.”

The look in Rayne’s eyes was almost trancelike as he continued to gaze at the living centerpiece, which gave the concept of body shots a whole new meaning. With her golden skin and the smell of sun in her hair, she was a beautiful girl, giving him every reason to stare. But then again, he was probably trying to decide which vein to start with first. Drinking from a live sweetblood could be pretty intoxicating. Who the hell cared what they looked like, although Ventra was a firm believer in the power of eye candy.

“But only if,” he said, pushing his chair from the table and standing up, “you can do something to prove you haven’t lost total control here.”

He leaned over the female and the greyed-out whites of his eyes darkened further.

“Oh, God, please. No.” Black mascara tracked down both sides of the human’s face.

Rayne tilted her head to the side, and without any more preamble than that, sank his teeth into her neck. She screamed and arched her body as best she could, but the bindings on her ankles and wrists kept her firmly affixed to the tabletop.

Ventra had debated whether to gag her or not but at the last minute decided to keep her au naturel. And she was glad she did. Many vampires liked the thrill of hearing their victims scream in terror—the fear added a special zing to the energy—and Rayne seemed no different. With his lips seared to her neck, he swallowed mouthful after mouthful of her sweet blood.

After a few moments, when the girl’s screams had died down to a weak whimper, he lifted his head, his lips stained deep crimson.

“Magnificent.”

“Glad you like her. I kept her outside all day to maximize the ultraviolet energy in the blood.”

His gaze roamed the female’s body. “Ah, that explains the bikini then. And the smell of the sun on her tanned skin.” He removed his expensive Italian suit jacket and set it carefully over the back of his chair. “I have faith in you, Ventra. You’re able to think outside the box. This—” he swept his hand along the woman’s thigh and rested it just inside her knee “—is evidence of that. I believe you have what it takes to make even the most dismal city a success.”

She beamed with pride that such a powerful player in the Darkblood organization felt so strongly about her. She vowed not to fuck it up this time.

He loosened his tie and rolled up the sleeves of his handmade dress shirt. Indicating the female’s right arm, he said, “Remove the binding. I’d like to try that vein next.”

DOMINIC SERRANO FLATTENED his back against the dingy brick wall and waited for his team to get into position. Peering through the darkness, past a torn blue awning outside an import/export company in south Seattle, he had a clear view of the target location.

Knee-high weeds grew in the cracks around the entrance and a few fast-food wrappers had gathered in the shallow door well. A basket with long-dead plants hung from a hook to the left of the roll-up doors. Situated in a run-down portion of the industrial district, the warehouse appeared to be vacant, but according to their intel, it was anything but empty.

He glanced at his watch. A few more minutes till they went in. Several days ago, they’d learned that Darkbloods were expecting a large shipment of illegal weapons and Guardians weren’t about to let them get distributed.

Had it really been almost three years since he’d last been to this part of town? It was where he’d charcoaled one of the DB bastards chasing Mackenzie. He flexed his fists and felt her blood coursing through his veins.

Fighting their enemies always cranked up his energy level. Given their blood bond, she knew it and sensed it from him. He didn’t care where she was or what she was doing when he got home after being out on a mission like this. He needed sex. And he needed it badly.

Once, after a crazy pursuit of several DBs that took all night, he’d found her in the field office computer lab. She’d known he was coming for her and was wriggling off her panties as he stormed into the room. Thinking the place was empty, he shoved her up against the wall, unzipped his fly and plunged himself into her heat.

“Nice ass,” Jackson had said to him the next night when they were shooting hoops in the gym.

“Huh?”

“A couple of us guys were playing poker over at Cordell’s.”

“Yeah, and?”

“You apparently forgot that he set up a live feed to the computer lab to answer questions while he was home helping Shannon after her surgery. We enjoyed the show last night, although all we could see of it was your cute little bum.”

“Glad you liked it,” he’d said, throwing the basketball hard at Jackson’s chest. “Hope you picked up a few pointers.”

“We were glued to the monitors.”

Electronic static crackled in his ear and jerked him back to the present. When he got home tonight, he’d make sure to check for wayward camera equipment first.

He touched his earpiece. “Everyone in place?”

Jonah and Sadie answered first. “Affirmative.” Positioned on the north end of the warehouse, they’d enter the building at the loading docks.

The line crackled again then Jackson said, “Mitchie and I are ready to kick some Darkblood ass.” A grunt and scuffling could be heard through the connection.

“Hey. Ouch.”

Mitch didn’t like that nickname, which only gave Jackson more ammunition to harass him with.

“Ladies, no catfights.”

One more team to report, then they’d go in.

Based on intel Santiago had obtained from a DB captured near Region, they surmised that the shipment contained very deadly weapons—blades and bullets—made from high quality Mexican silver. Merely touching Santa Muerte silver would weaken a vampire, which was why the Agency used it in handcuffs and other restraints. One nick from a blade caused very severe silver poisoning, more than a lesser-quality silver would. If this shit got out on the streets and into the hands of DBs and other reverts, it could cause all sorts of problems. While most Agency-forged blades were made with the stuff, Darkbloods’ weapons weren’t. Having been shot by such a bullet once, Dom knew only too well how devastating an injury from it could be and absently rubbed his shoulder. If Mackenzie hadn’t stumbled across him when she had, he surely would have died.

It wasn’t often this kind of silver was found in non-Agency weapons. Many years ago, the Santa Muerte mines had been shut down and sealed. Darkbloods conducted raids from time to time, trying to get their hands on the raw material, but as far as anyone knew, they never succeeded. The weapons they did find were ones they’d plucked from charcoaled Guardians.

“Team three? You there?”

No answer.

“Gibson?” With Lily gone, he’d requested Jackson’s friend Val Gibson come up from the San Diego office to help them out here in Seattle. They often traded personnel when either of the two offices needed more agents. He’d arrived yesterday and had been fully briefed on the situation.

Where the hell was he? His team should’ve checked in by now.

For a moment Dom wondered if they did things differently down there. With the relatively small vampire population up here compared to Southern California, there were apt to be variations in protocol. But they went over everything back at the field office and Gibson assured him he understood procedure. His team was to get into position near the west entrance and wait for the signal from Dom. Wasn’t the guy right behind them when they got out of the van back at the staging point a mile up the road?

“Gibby,” Jackson said, the strain in his voice obvious. “Where the hell are you?”

Dom was seriously considering aborting the mission when the guy finally answered.

“Yeah, sorry.” He sounded out of breath. “Tambra and I are here and in place.”

Jackson cursed through the line. “What the hell were you doing? Getting a blow job?”

“Ha, I wish. Maybe later.”

A woman coughed. “Don’t you be giving me the hairy eyeball, Gibby, because it’s not happening.”

Joking aside, Dom was proud of his team, how everyone worked together. They poked fun and harassed each other, but they were some of the finest Guardians in North America—highly trained and very loyal. “Now, does everyone know what we’re doing when we get in there?”

Yeses and uh-huhs echoed through the line.

“None of you better be lying to me about wearing your protective gear either. If this shipment is what we think it is, they’re going to be armed with Santa Muerte silver.”

He tugged at the neckline of his vest. Even though it was standard procedure, he’d always been averse to wearing them, but now that he was a husband and father, he was living for more than just himself. The snug fit and added bulk wasn’t the pain in the ass it used to be.

They all confirmed they were wearing their gear.

Knowing they had this mission tonight, he’d taken Mackenzie’s blood so that he was fully energized and able to use his special powers if he needed to. Because they were Enlazado por la Sangre—bonded by blood—her lifeblood did all sorts of things to him, including infusing him with the ancient power to vapor. By turning himself into smoke, he could seep through the smallest of cracks.

The ability had come in handy several times, including last week when his son accidentally locked himself in the bathroom. Miguel was crying and couldn’t figure out how to unlock the door from the inside. When Dom vapored under the door and materialized on the other side, Miguel stared at him a moment then burst out laughing. With thick tears still streaming down his face, he held out his fat little arms for Dom to pick him up and comfort him. His heart swelled just thinking about how much he loved his son and loved being a father.

The scent of Darkbloods was thick in the air. Dom considered having his Guardians go in stealthily, but they needed to get in fast and prevent anyone from leaving or destroying anything. The Agency needed to find out how they were getting the weapons, who was supplying them.

“Okay, then. We go in on three…two…one. Go.” Dom spun away from the wall and sprinted across the small expanse of pavement to the east entrance. A well-placed kick and the door flew open. Once inside, he morphed into the darkness and shadow-moved quickly past a row of stacked pallets.

Jonah and Sadie emerged from the left. Jackson and Mitch came through the double doors at the far end. Gibby and Tambra ran in from the right. They all met in the middle.

Dom stood with his hands on his hips and surveyed the place. Where were the DBs? Though he was no tracker, he distinctly picked up the scent of several of them and yet the place seemed empty. Something must’ve alerted them to the Guardians’ presence. With rows of boxes and shelving that stretched to the ceiling and several offices along the back wall, it was possible they were hiding.

“They’ve got to be in here,” he said through clenched teeth. “I can smell them.”

“Me, too,” someone said.

“Let’s fan out.” As everyone scattered, he followed the scent to several palettes of flattened cardboard in front of a Dumpster. They must be inside.

Dom kicked the Dumpster and the sound echoed throughout the warehouse. Nothing stirred inside. As he reached for the warped lid, the scent hit him. It was old blood without an energy signature.

Carefully, he lifted the black cover and peered inside. There, on a big heap of garbage, were the mangled bodies of three Darkbloods. Regeneration could grow back limbs, but not severed heads.

He didn’t understand. His team was the only Guardian unit with authority here. He’d even pulled a few agents off other assignments. But if not Guardians, who else would’ve killed them? And why wouldn’t they have been staked? That was the typical way his people dispensed with their enemies, not by dismemberment.

Something wasn’t right. He backed away from the Dumpster, noticed a few of his agents slipping between the rows of shelving. It occurred to him that maybe it hadn’t been Guardians who had done this, but other Darkbloods. It was vicious, not clean and fast.

Why would DBs kill their own people? A turf war? Maybe another group not affiliated with them were after the weapons and—

“What the hell is that?” Sadie came up behind him and pointed to a series of wires on the ground leading from the nearest pallet and disappearing behind one of the shelves.

Craning his neck, he noticed similar wires wrapped around the metal support beams, but he couldn’t tell where they originated. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

And then a goddamn freight train sounded in his ears.

“It’s a trap!” he yelled at his team. Darkbloods had dismembered their own people in order for Guardians to think they were inside. “Get your asses out of here.”

Boots pounded and echoed through the building as everyone bolted for the doors. Everyone, that is, except Sadie.

Goddamn it. He spun around and, spotting her back by the Dumpster, he shadow-moved to her as quickly as he could. “I gave an order, Agent. Let’s go.”

“Hold on. I’ve been trained in render safe procedures. I can disarm it.” She started to follow a set of wires down one of the aisles, but he grabbed her arm.

“There’s no time. It’s too risky.”

“But—”

He didn’t wait for her to finish. Instead, he hauled her toward the nearest exit, ignoring her protests.

As he shoved her through the door, he heard a faint clicking noise behind him and threw a quick glance over his shoulder. Was another member of his team still left inside? He could’ve sworn he’d made an accurate head count. Goddamn it, why didn’t any—

And then the building exploded.