Clarity (The Admiral's Elite Book 3) (29 page)

Tipping his head, Jed considered her, or the direction of her voice anyway. “He had names, dates, the facts checked out.”

“I’m not saying what he said wasn’t true, at least in part, but his boss is a bigger part of the ‘why’ than he let on. He needs to answer for his part in this as well.”

“I can call him in, ask him for more.”

Kenneth giggled that high pitched, unnerving sound he made right about when he was going to snap.

“Kenneth, you just gotta touch him while she’s got him thinking about him. Nothing more,” Ryan did his best to talk him back to sanity before they lost control of the situation.

“Not a bad idea,” Gabrielle encouraged him. “Unless the one he works for gets wind you’re onto him, Did you get the impression he’d told his boss he was coming to you? Was he scared?”

“He was one of those fidgety guys, antsy. I didn’t get the impression he wanted anyone to know he was here. Hey! What are you doing? Get your hands off me!”

Kenneth made contact, a hand clamped on their captive’s shoulder. Eyes closed, his expression softened as he “listened.” Tension eased from his body. Madness nowhere to be seen, he appeared...peaceful.

Jed flinched, dropped his shoulder trying to remove it from Kenneth’s grip. “Ouch, what are you doing?”

Gabrielle looked closer, blood sprung up, marring the white cotton oxford in 4 dark spots under Kenneth’s fingertips. “Stop.” She took a step, stopped.

Fangs were out and Kenneth’s jaw worked hungrily. “You know what we’re talking about, he won’t last long enough to do his first talk show appearance. No way the Unitarian lets him breathe one second past his usefulness.”

“Doesn’t matter, we’re here for you to get a read then we’re gone. Our mission is the information, nothing more.”

Pink tongue gone peach with death and too long between meals, swiped over fangs, curled around one and made a sucking sound as he reeled it back in.

“Come on, Kenneth,” Ryan heard it going south, knew there was nothing he could do from a hotel across town.

“What? Or you tell the admiral? I’m dead as soon as we get back, we all know it.”

“If you go against orders, yes, he’ll gut you himself.” Gabrielle gauged the distance between them. Wondered how weak the vampire really was. Ryan could take him but he was stronger than her. Add to that vampires were a tick stronger than werewolves, not that she’d admit that to any of the undead blood suckers. But was it enough? And what kind of damage could he do before she took him down?

“Ah, please. You can’t do this,” Jed panted through the torture.

“Really? I think I am. Doing. This.”

Jed’s cry morphed into screams.

Kenneth leaned in close, teeth bared over Jed’s shoulder. The human couldn’t possibly see more than a silhouette adding terror to agony. When his teeth were just above the screaming man’s collar bone, Gabrielle lunged.

She took him out at the waist, sliding across the desk. Laptop and knick knacks clattered against sheetrock a second before their bodies hit.

“Gabs!” Ryan’s panicking voice blared in her ear. “You okay? So help me, Kenneth, you fucking psycho, if you hurt her...”

“I’m fine,” she started.

The sheet of glass over their heads shattered, covering them. Pain sliced across her skin.  A quick look over, Jed was gone. Head rolled down on his chest, a small hole in the side of his temple.

“Damn it, Kenneth, tell me you at least got something before you lost it.” Rising to a crouch she peered out the gaping opening in the wall, mindful of the  glass stalagmites rising from the sill. “I see you, asshole.” Narrowed eyes memorized every detail of the man watching from across the street, long coat swaying in the cool night breeze.

“What’s happening?” Ryan’s efforts to remain calm and not shout them deaf wasn’t exactly working out.

“We’re good. A little cut up but fine,” she reassured him.

“What was that? It sounded like all hell broke loose. Did you throw Kenneth out the window?”

“You wish,” Kenneth grumbled.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Focus,” Gabrielle cut Kenneth a look. “I think our source just showed up. He shot Jed through the window from across the street. A damn tough shot considering we took the light out so he’s firing into a dark room. Now he’s standing there, I’m guessing deciding if he should come see what we found out before he takes us out too.”

Kenneth wiped blood from over his eye where a cut at his hairline was leaking steadily. “Let him try.”

“Do we want to take him out or follow him back to his master?” Gabrielle mused aloud, continuing to watch the man shift his weight from foot to foot. “He’s our source. Fidgety.”

Suddenly the shooter’s body stilled and he raised his chin, scenting.

“Shit,” she whispered. “No.”

Kenneth’s frizzy hair popped up next to her.

The shooter bolted.

“He’s moving,” she said aloud for Ryan’s benefit then to Kenneth, “keep up.”

Feet double timed down the stairs, handle turned and the door whipped open. No need to worry about prints when one didn’t exist in the system to match. So much easier than working in gloves.

Feeling the moon’s draw, Gabrielle let her animal come close to the surface and felt extra strength flood her limbs, scents burned as they intensified. Leaping seven steps to the sidewalk as one she let the night envelop her as she gave chase.

“You better run.”

Chapter 25

Playing bodyguard for someone who knows and wants to arrest you is tricky business. Keeping an eye on Senator Reese, his whereabouts wasn’t enough. Not when there was a fellow party attendee who meant to send the colonel home in a body bag. They had to keep close enough to play Secret Service if there was a bullet or knife. What of poison or biological weapon? Assassination had become more complicated to deter with the age of biological weaponry.

“Good thing we’re at the embassy and not one of the local hotel ballrooms.” Becca muttered, shifting to watch Reece flit from one good old boys club to another from behind a large marble pillar. “Small rooms and lots of cover.”

“You cover this side, I’ll be opposite. Keep your eyes and ears open.” Leaning in, he placed a lingering kiss on the corner of her lips. “Kyle, that goes for you too. Anybody sees or hears anything even remotely suspicious we need to know. We need Reese alive, Colonel Reyes too if possible.”

Keeping her eyes on target, not allowing them to follow her heart as he walked away, was a challenge but they were there for a reason. If Reese died at this point the sharks would cannibalize each other getting to the torch to carry it for him, things could escalate quickly into a mob with lots of pitch forks. There was power in following in a martyr’s footsteps. Reese’s decision to go after domestic terrorists, clean house from the bottom up, it was a cause Joe America could get behind and one their elected officials had to be behind or lose the faith of voters. Who wouldn’t want to carry on that fight? Offices were won with that kind of power; enemies taken out.

On the scale of less sexy than an overarching movement to clean up government and military, was surveillance. At a political fundraising gala. After eleven. Several couples danced, some sat at tables, some hovered in clusters. The one she wanted to hear stood drinking and holding conversations outside Becca’s range. Vampire ears might be picking up a few but hers were human. Her recently renewed strength and hearing no longer felt like she was operating in a mud pit, but she was nowhere near where she used to be when she shared a vampire’s full strength. More like human after a good night’s sleep. She had to settle for old fashioned, frustrating voyeurism. Awesome.

“Heads up, we’ve got a bogie at six o’clock,” Michael’s deep baritone sent blood racing through her bloodstream.

Half a step back and she was mostly hidden behind her new best friend, the smooth gray pillar. Head hanging out, she caught an eyeful of shiny chest and green. “Colonel Reyes, I presume.”

“In the flesh.” Michael’s smile was audible. “Kyle, what can you tell me about the good Colonel?”

Sounds of typing. “Our dear friend, and potential assassination plotter, has quite an impressive career.” He gave a low whistle. “Enlisted at the tail end of Vietnam, he went up the ranks quickly. Attachment details to several congressmen, ambassadors, and even a brief stint with Reagan’s detail to Moscow when they went to visit Gorbachev. Looks like he’s been everywhere, met all the important people.”

“Not quite.”

Becca sought Michael’s gaze over the still crowded hall. “What do you mean?”

Obliging her, he stepped out from around a large potted fern to lean grab another champagne from a passing server outfitted in a gold waistcoat uniform. “Does it not strike you as strange that a man who has devoted his life to his chosen branch has only reached colonel? That many years, that many high level assignments and he’s not a general yet?”

“Could be a sore spot.” Becca eyed the man in question crossing the floor with a fierce expression, a smaller man in tow, most likely an aide. “But is it enough to kill for?”

“Seen people kill for a hell of a lot less,” came from Kyle.

“Don’t underestimate what a man will do for pride.”

The team observed as the colonel and his aide approached. Senator Reese peeled off from the black and white brigade to receive them.

“Reyes looks intense, I wish I could hear what they’re saying,” Becca grumbled.

“Let me see what I can do.” Michael disappeared. Through the comm he addressed their technical wizard. “Can you turn this mic up?”

“Well, yeah, but then it picks up breathing and heart beat and all that and it’s hard to hear the other stuff.”

Nothing. Becca could picture Michael staring at him, waiting for it...

“Oh, wait, right.” It hit Kyle. Vampire, no heart beat, no breath. He could be as still and soundless as he wanted to be.

How does that not freak me out
?
Whatever, a question for another day.

The noise came up in her comm, stereo effect; full immersion. She was tempted to cover her ears, it was nearly too much. Michael had to be suffering.

“Let me see what I can do to get closer.” Michael popped out the other side of the pillar before he was gone again, the art of obfuscating perfected by hiding for so long amongst those who would fear and destroy him if they knew.

Conversations came and went as Michael wove between a veritable who’s who of politics, domestic and foreign. Some conversations rolled over her without registering a word. They could be curing disease or designing one for all she knew, their beautiful languages made her want to pull up a chair and just listen. French, Dutch, German, Italian, some others she couldn’t identify; a sumptuous delight if it weren’t for that whole “our unit’s collective head is on the chopping block so we have to convince this guy we’re not the enemy” thing.

Michael moved again, sounds became words. English. One of the voices familiar.

Reese

“Even if they are here in Washington what makes you think they’re targeting me?” Reese was asking.