Cold Hard Secret (Secret McQueen) (5 page)

After tugging on the pants and top, I reclaimed the phone.

“Be careful, that’s all I ask. If I get a chance, I’ll call Genie and see if she maybe sent it or knows something about it. But until then, be alert, okay?” Cradling the phone between my shoulder and ear, I pulled my hair into a haphazard bun.

“I am always careful. I should be telling
you
these things.”

“Would it do any good?” I had to smile at my own question.

“
Non
, my foolish girl. It never does.” Her voice had warmed, and I suspected she was smiling too. It was nice to feel weightless for a moment, free from the heavy burden that hung around my neck day in and day out. What I wouldn’t give to feel this light every day. Or if not a day, even an hour.

“Stay safe.” I was struck by the sudden, intense need to see her. With the nagging feeling that something was wrong with that postcard, coupled with the fact I hadn’t seen her since my failed wedding, I just wanted to go home. Not New York home, but
home
home. “When I’m done here, maybe I’ll take a detour. Come see you.”

“You don’t need to babysit me.”

“No, not like that. I could bring Desmond. We could make a proper visit out of it.”

She made a small
hmm
noise. “If you are bringing me a man, does that mean he is
the
man?”

I still wasn’t sure how much of my messy love life my
grandmere
was privy to, but the way she emphasized
the man
made me think she knew a lot more than I gave her credit for. Was Desmond
the
man? After coming home from California, he and Holden had agreed to their uneasy peace. They both still intended to fight for me, but the actual fighting was to be kept at a minimum.

Since then, I hadn’t been the most romantic girlfriend in the world, and I feared instead of keeping them, I was on a fast road to losing them both.

I loved them, and I wasn’t in a position mentally or emotionally to be choosing favorites. Especially since they’d both had a hand in bringing me back from the verge. How could I choose between two men who quite literally saved my life?

At some point I’d have to, or they would decide for me, and I’d end up with neither of them.

But for now, I was keeping that decision as far away from my mind as possible.

“He is
a
man,” I answered.

She clucked her tongue, the way any good, disapproving parental figure would. “You mustn’t play with the hearts of men. They are more fragile than we are led to believe.”

What could I say to that?

She was right, and I’d been carrying around two of them without much regard for the consequences. If I broke both their hearts, would I know whose was whose? How could I have made such a mess out of everything?

Sometimes the desire to be loved leads people down a foolish road, and instead of finding joy, the only thing we find is misery and loneliness.

So much for my moment of happiness.

Chapter Seven

“You’re grumpy tonight.” Desmond eased a large duffel bag off my shoulder.

“And you figured that observation would cheer me up?” I managed to keep any venom out of my tone, in spite of the fact my feelings were hurt by his statement.

He wasn’t wrong, though. Since hanging up with
Grandmere
, my mood had taken a downward spiral. I didn’t think Desmond would notice, since my default mood these days was bad, but apparently my grouchy attitude was attaining new heights.

“I’d like to think you’d be more positive about what we’re doing.”

“When we get out, we can find a nice bar and order an obscenely expensive bottle of champagne, okay? I’ll even crack a smile. But until then, this is the version of me you’re stuck with.”

“Great.”

Was that…sarcasm? I gave Desmond a quick look over my shoulder, slowing down so we were evenly matched. In spite of his longer legs, I was in such a hurry to get to the metro station I was outpacing him.

It wasn’t like Desmond to show much attitude, so for him to be outright snarky caught me off-guard. “I’m sorry.” I meant it too. I was sorry for being such a bitch to him, especially after we’d had a good talk the night before. “I had a call from
Grandmere
, and something she said isn’t sitting right.” Since I knew he’d want me to elaborate, and I wasn’t ready to discuss
Grandmere
’s opinion on my love life, I added, “Someone sent her a random postcard, and it has me on edge. As soon as we’re done with Peyton, I’d like to go see her. For some peace of mind.”

“Her peace of mind, or yours?”

“A bit of both. Probably mostly mine.”

He nodded. “Bringing me home to meet the family? Big move, McQueen.”

“Don’t let your head get too engorged there,” I warned. “You’ve already met my dad. And I think you’ve had a passing introduction to my mother when she was trying to rip my throat out. My family isn’t the warm, cuddly type.”

At the mention of my father, a lump grew in my throat. I felt guilty for having left him behind in New York to go on this manhunt. We’d only just met, and getting to know him was a trying endeavor for both of us. Sutherland Halliston had gone crazy during his transformation into a vampire, and now he was permanently frozen at seventeen years old, with the mental capacity of an insane grapefruit.

Having a conversation with my dad was a lot like trying to get into an intellectual discussion with a talking parrot. The words made sense but were rarely in context. He was now in my care, since I’d taken him from the West Coast council, and his appearance in New York was rocking a lot of boats.

I hoped Holden was looking out for Sutherland in my absence because I didn’t particularly trust the council to have my father’s best interests at heart.

We made our way down the metro steps, flanked on either side by evening commuters. We earned ourselves a few grumpy looks, but mostly because the bulk of the duffel bag meant it kept bumping into innocent bystanders. If I’d known I could walk around a major city carrying a sword and no one would bat an eyelash, I’d have gladly worn it all the time back in New York. Guns were great, and I loved my SIGs in a somewhat unhealthy way, but the sword had more cache in certain crowds.

Mainly the crowds I liked to kill.

Desmond and I moved towards the end of the platform, away from most of the bustling crowd, and waited for the train to arrive. We determined the quietest time to go would be right after passengers had boarded. As the train exited the station, most people would be on it or making their way to the exits, and we wouldn’t be noticed edging our way towards the employee door.

If I’d been willing to take more time planning, I might have considered getting fake uniforms so we could head to the door at any moment without anyone questioning us. But I was impatient for the kill, and there was no time for elaborate
Ocean’s Eleven
-style plans.

I was more of a kick-down-the-door kind of gal anyway.

Once the train started, Desmond and I rose from our blue plastic seats and moved towards the exit. Across from us a few people were milling about on the opposite platform waiting for the other train, but none seemed too interested in paying attention to us.

Sometimes I got bummed out about living in a world so devoted to technology. I had a smartphone I didn’t know how to use, and only dusted off my laptop when my running playlist needed updating. I was odd for a twenty-three-year-old, and I knew it. But seeing everyone across from us more focused on their phones or tablets than anything going on around them, for once I was grateful. The only way they’d pay attention to us was if someone else were to film it and post it on YouTube.

Which was fast becoming an entirely different kind of problem in the supernatural community.

But for the time being it was working in my favor, and I’d take whatever luck I could get.

We continued to walk past the steps and along a narrow ledge leading into the dark mouth of the tunnel. Once we were at the end of the platform, the only light available was a few small lamps mounted along the entrance to the bowels of the metro. Their dim yellow light was enough to show us where to go, but not to illuminate us to potential prying eyes.

I disengaged the safeties on both my guns, and Desmond played with the strap on the duffel bag. I’d have felt better if he were already armed, but he told me back at the hotel he had no intention of pulling out a weapon until we were inside the sewers. He wasn’t able to hide guns because we hadn’t brought a holster big enough for him, and I think he was angling to use the shotgun in the bag, which would stand out a lot more than two handguns.

I’d once seen Desmond carry a medieval broadsword into the fray, and while he didn’t get much of a chance to use it, the sight of him holding the massive, ancient blade had stuck in my mind. Up until then I’d relegated him to the sidelines. Sure, he was a big, strong man, but I had somehow believed he couldn’t hold his own in my rough-and-tumble reality. But seeing him pick up a sword that weighed almost as much as I did had totally shifted my perception of him as a warrior.

The dude could kick ass.

Not to mention it was a pretty hot thing to see your boyfriend wielding a weapon right out of Arthurian legend. I’d be lying if I claimed that hadn’t been added to the spank bank.

I put aside thoughts of Desmond as a white knight and hopped off the platform onto the gritty dirt path running alongside the train tracks.

“Watch the outside rail,” he warned.

“I am.” I hadn’t considered if they were electrified, but I was generally of the opinion it wasn’t smart to jump on subway tracks, regardless.

He set the bag down in front of the metal door, and I found a few of the basic tools we’d stashed inside. I wasn’t a skilled cat burglar, so picking locks wasn’t something I did with any style or finesse, but when I couldn’t kick down a door, I had to find a way in somehow. Plus, my human mentor Keaty had found an interesting way to teach me to pick locks by keeping me trapped until I managed to get out.

Too bad those skills had failed me when The Doctor had me caged.

My gaze cut to the dark tunnel, and an itchy discomfort crept up my spine. I bit down on the inside of my cheek to stave off the threat of a flashback and counted from ten repeatedly in my head.

“Des, can you…?” I hesitated, not sure I wanted to depend on him for something as tenuous as my sanity. What if I learned to need him too much and he left? How would I cope? Oh, fuck it, I needed all my wits about me for what we were about to do. “Can you touch me?”

The werewolves—more Lucas than Desmond—had this habit of putting me into a calm state by touching me. It was nothing like the power Sig, leader of the Tribunal, had, but I didn’t have Sig right then.

“Touch you?”

It had been a good long time since I’d
asked
for his hands on me, so I could understand his uncertainty, especially given our current location.

“I’m wigging out a little. I need the soul bond. It calms me down.”

“God, Secret, why haven’t you ever asked for it before? All those times—”

“I’m asking now.”

He placed his hand on the exposed skin at the back of my neck and squeezed. It wasn’t a perfect calm—I could still feel my pulse tripping, and the bleak edges of panic were threatening me even as the taste of lime filled my mouth. But it was better than the hysteria I’d sensed, and the flashback crawled away, leaving me my normal, mostly functional self. At least now I could focus on the lock instead of my mental state.

It took a few attempts, and some choice curse words, but when the tumbler finally clicked, I couldn’t help but let out a little
whoop
of triumph. Desmond let his hand drop away, and as I stashed the tools back in the bag, I handed him the shotgun.

“You ready for this?” I asked.

“Am I ready to hunt down the guy who has tried to kill you on a dozen occasions? Yeah, I think it’s safe to say I was born ready for that.” He opened the door, but I grabbed his wrist to still him.

“I don’t want you going after Peyton.” A dreadful image of the redheaded vampire ripping out Desmond’s throat filled my mind. It wasn’t a flashback, but it was grim enough to set my heart rate going again. “There will be plenty for us to deal with in there, and I’ll need you to watch my back when I finish him. But this is
my
fight, Desmond. I don’t mean to be all vigilante about it, but I need to be the one who kills him.” I stared at him, hoping my eyes were dire but not crazy. Either way he had to understand. “I
have
to kill him.”

Desmond stared at me for a long moment, his violet-gray eyes dark with worry or fear, but after a pause he nodded. “Don’t you go taking any stupid risks in there, woman.”

“You either…man.”

When I let go of him, he set down the gun and grabbed hold of me, hauling me into his arms so I had to look up at him lest my face be crushed against his chest. He was warm, and breathing in his scent washed away the nasty reek of the tunnels.

“We’re both coming out of this alive.” His voice was all promise, bordering on a threat. As if I had no choice but to comply.

“We are,” I agreed.

He dipped down and kissed me, cradling the back of my head with both his big hands. His lips were hot, and when his tongue brushed mine, a sizzle of electricity shot through me, radiating from my hair right down into the arches of my feet. I gave a little shudder, sighing against his mouth. For the first time in a long time I didn’t want him to stop.