Cole’s Redemption (17 page)

“I know.” Moving into the study, Zan took a seat with a sigh. “And she’ll be all right,
eventually. I just wanted to say I’m here for both of you. Whatever you need.”

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

“Why did you tell her now, though? I thought she wasn’t ready.”

“Maybe it was me who wasn’t ready,” he said ruefully. “In any case, I had run out
of time.” His gaze slid to his laptop screen again, and Zan didn’t miss the tension
in his posture and expression.

“What’s going on?”

“I got another threat. This is the main reason why I couldn’t hold off on telling
Selene the truth any longer.” Turning the laptop around slightly, he gestured for
Zan to read what was on the screen. “I showed this to Jax and Micah a bit ago. First
one I’ve received since we’ve been here.”

It was an e-mail. Another threat from Nick’s unknown tormentor.

Do you know me yet? Do you feel my breath down your neck, my fangs scrape your skin?
Next time you won’t get away. Very soon I’ll tear you apart, just as I did your mate
when I ripped out her throat so long ago. Just as I will your precious daughter. She
won’t escape me a second time.

His blood ran cold. “Fuck! Where the hell are these e-mails coming from?”

“Micah’s hopeful he can trace this one.”

“You think this really is the bastard who killed your mate and destroyed your family?”

Rage and agony waged war on the commander’s face. “And he’s going to attempt to finish
what he started.”

“We’ll stop him. That son of a bitch isn’t getting his hands on my mate,” he growled.
His wolf bristled, ready to do battle. All he needed was the enemy.

“Zan—”

“No. I know that tone, and don’t even
think
about telling me to stay on the sidelines,” he said in a low voice. “I can hear now,
and I can fight. It’s not gonna happen.”

Before the commander could protest further, Jax came into the study, followed by Micah,
who was toting his own laptop. Both men looked excited, especially Micah. Zan hoped
like hell the gleam in the younger man’s eyes was a natural high, and instantly, he
felt bad for even thinking it. The Dreamwalker was working hard to regain his place
on the team.

“We’ve finally got that bastard. He fucked up!” Micah proclaimed loudly, hurrying
over to plunk the computer onto the desktop. “Wait till you see this.”

Nick scooted his equipment over to make room, and Micah opened the lid on his laptop
to wake it up, then typed in his password. The desktop screen came to life and displayed
a photo.

“What’s this?” Nick’s brows drew together as he studied the picture.

Then a car drove by in the background, and Zan realized they weren’t looking at a
still photo—it was a video.

“It’s a live feed of a Motel 6 about twenty miles from here. And guess who’s inside?”
Micah was practically bouncing in place.

“Elvis?” Zan joked to lighten the somber mood.

The Dreamwalker snorted. “Close! Only these guys really
are
undead. There’s a whole nest of rogue vamps enjoying the fine comforts of the place
where they ‘leave the light on for ya.’”

Jax broke in, absently stroking his goatee. “Despite those amenities, why would they
pick this particular venue as their base?”

“Hide in plain sight?” Zan guessed.

“Maybe. But it requires them to pass themselves off as human, which is an unprecedented
level of restraint for such a large group of rogues.”

“They have a leader,” Nick said. “Someone strong. Cunning. Any hits on who that might
be?”

Micah nodded, gesturing to the commander’s laptop. “That’s how we found the rogue
we think is the head honcho—through the e-mails you’ve been getting from the asshole.
I traced the IP address and tracked it to the motel, and—”

“Wait a second,” Nick interrupted, pushing to his feet. “You’re saying you think the
bastard who’s been harassing me is leading all of the rogues?”

“Yeah, boss. That’s what I’m telling you. After we honed in on the location, Tarron’s
men did some recon and got us the footage. I’ve got some still pics, too.”

Bending, Micah clicked on a file and opened a series of black-and-white shots taken
outside the motel. Then he clicked through the pics. Most of them showed a group of
males surrounding a figure who walked slightly ahead of the rest, like they were his
entourage.

“See this guy?” Micah tapped the screen. “He’s the one running the show. The others
are there to protect him.”

“How can you be sure this vampire is the same one sending me the e-mails?” Nick pressed.

“See this?” Micah pointed to an object in the vamp’s hand. “He’s the only one who’s
brought a laptop case in and out. It’s an educated hunch, based on the notes themselves
and how the others defer to the vamp in the pictures.”

Zan studied the photo, or more accurately, the leader in it. He was tall, a bit broad
through the shoulders. He carried himself like a powerful male, head up, acknowledging
no one around him. His light hair, perhaps dark blond or sandy brown, was pulled into
a ponytail at his nape.

“He’s wearing a suit,” Zan murmured to himself.

“Huh?” Micah looked at him in confusion. Jax and Nick waited, curious.

“The leader is wearing a damned suit, and so are the members of his posse. The rogues
who’ve been attacking unsuspecting citizens in outlying areas haven’t been dressed
this nicely. In fact, the others were wearing holey jeans and torn shirts at best.”

“So why the nice threads?” Jax mused, following his line of thought. “What makes these
fuckers so special?”

“Exactly. The groups we’ve dealt with were starving, sloppy, their bodies unkempt
and unwashed.” Zan flicked a hand at the screen. “Somebody’s taking real good care
of this group, but who?”

“Wouldn’t the leader be doing that?” Micah frowned. “Maybe he’s got a tighter rein
on the ones in his immediate circle.”

Nick paced the study. “Yeah, but how? That brings us back to them being too well organized,
too controlled to be regular rogues. They almost resemble a mafia.”

“Could be that’s exactly what they are, in a sense,” Zan speculated. “And in that
case,
this
guy answers to somebody higher up, because there’s always another asshole above you
in the food chain.”

Nick looked at Jax. “Can you get a read on the leader from the stills or the video?
His name, at least?”

“I may be able to answer that last question.” Tarron’s form materialized from nothingness,
and he stepped forward.

“Jesus, that creeps me out,” Micah complained with a shiver. “Do you have to sneak
around like that, walking through walls and shit?”

Tarron’s mouth quirked. “This
is
my home, pup. Get used to it.” Ignoring the younger man’s discomfort, he walked to
the laptop and peered at the screen. Immediately, his humor vanished and he blew out
a breath. “I had to be sure, but there’s no doubt. Their leader’s name is Carter Darrow.
He used to be a member of my coven, long ago. He eventually went rogue, and to make
a long story short, he’s been my enemy ever since. I’ve hunted him for a couple of
decades, only to have him turn up within arm’s reach now. That in itself is quite
troubling.”

“He’s not here just to get at me,” Nick said, staring hard at Darrow’s image. “This
is much bigger.”

Jax shifted on his feet. “I can try for a reading, but I can’t do it from a video
or a photograph of him. It has to be an object he owned, or something he touched.
It doesn’t have to be of particular monetary value, either. I just need his essence,
if you will.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment, and then Tarron got a strange look on his face. Quickly,
he strode to his bookcase. “I may have something.”

After searching through a few shelves of old books, the prince withdrew one carefully
and studied the cover. Turning to face the group, he held it out to Jax.

“A vintage copy of
The Count of Monte Cristo
,” Jax said, running a hand over the lettering in appreciation. “A man is wronged,
is tossed into a cell, and bides his time for years to bring down his enemy and exact
vengeance. One of my favorite stories ever.”

“Mine too,” the prince agreed. There was something wistful in his expression. A bit
sad. “The book was a birthday gift from Darrow more than twenty years ago, when he
was still among my coven. I always wondered if the gift was symbolic on his part.”

“Maybe.” Jax opened the cover. “He inscribed it to you. His writing will definitely
help with a reading.”

“Is there anything special you need to accomplish it?” Tarron asked him.

“No. Just a few minutes of quiet.”

Moving back, they gave the RetroCog silence and space as he settled on the sofa and
placed the book in his lap. As he traced the handwriting with his fingers, his expression
became distant. His mind was no longer in the room with them, but in a different time,
perhaps a different place. Zan tried to imagine how tough it would be to pull together
the threads of the past, form them into a vision or series of snapshots. How disturbing.

He knew sometimes the memories were horrid. That went with the territory; Jax had
little reason to handle an object unless the person who’d touched it had either done
something terrible, or been subjected to it.

Slowly Jax’s eyelids drifted shut. His breathing grew faster, more ragged. His face
became drawn and he mouthed the word
no
. A bad one, then. A glance at Nick told Zan that the commander knew it, too, and
was dreading what would be revealed.

When Jax slumped back and the book slipped from his grasp, Zan jumped forward and
rescued the volume, setting it on Tarron’s desk. Then he hurried to sit beside his
best friend and placed a palm on his forehead.

“Don’t,” Jax croaked, grabbing his wrist. “You can’t afford to spend any healing energy
on me.”

“Dammit, Jax—”

“No. I just need some water and some rest; then I’ll be fine.” His gaze found Nick’s,
and he paused. “You might want everyone to leave.”

The commander shook his head. “They all know anyway. Just tell me if Darrow is the
one responsible for murdering my mate.”

A heartbeat passed. “Yes.”

“There’s no doubt?”

“None,” Jax said gently. “I saw.”

Nick’s knees seemed to buckle as he grabbed the corner of his desk. Zan was ready
to catch his boss if need be, but it proved unnecessary. Nick straightened his spine,
and the devastation in his dark blue eyes was replaced by steel.

“I want Darrow dead. And I want to kill him myself.”

Those cold words sent a shudder through Zan. He’d heard the commander talk about taking
out their enemies before. Hell, they all said stuff like that. But this was the first
time he’d heard Nick speak personally about killing. It brought home how dangerous
their world was, how tenuous.

“We’re going to get him, I assure you,” the prince vowed. He looked to Jax. “The vision
you got . . . does this mean Darrow had already committed that atrocity when he gave
me the book?”

“Unfortunately, yes. That’s how my visions work—I can’t see an event if it hasn’t
happened when the object was handled. I’m sorry.”

The weight of knowing for certain that he’d had a rogue living under his rule, right
under his nose, was hard for Tarron to bear. The news that Darrow had killed someone’s
mate was no doubt even worse. The vampire closed his eyes and clenched his fists,
obviously battling his anger and frustration.

“We’ll get Darrow, but it won’t be easy,” Tarron finally said, opening his eyes. “I’ll
bring as many of my men as I can spare to tip the odds in our favor.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you. When’s the best time to strike?”

“I would say daylight, but only my oldest soldiers can handle the sun’s rays. The
younger ones will suffer nasty burns if exposed too long.”

“A nighttime offensive, then. Tomorrow night?”

“The timing should work. The question is, how the hell are we going to attack a coven
of rogue vampires at a Motel 6 without alerting every human in the area?”

Micah grinned at the prince. “That’s why it rocks that we come equipped with our very
own Sorcerer. Wait until you see him in action.”

Tarron’s smile transformed his face. “I’ve seen him performing his magic for the members
of my coven. He’s quite good.”

“Good? A few parlor tricks are nothing compared to what Kalen can do.” Micah laughed.
“You should see him turn a horde of rogues into dried-up raisins. He’s seriously badass.”

“Excellent. We’re going to need every advantage we can muster.”

The prince was right—and that’s what worried Zan.

Something about the upcoming fight didn’t sit well with him. He had a feeling they
were missing something important.

•   •   •

“You’re going to
what
? No!” Selene blurted.

“I can fight, baby,” Zan said evenly. He tried not to take her reaction personally.
After all, she was his mate and she had a right to be worried. “Like I told your father,
I have my hearing back and I’m fine. I’m not going to put the team in danger.”

“I’m not worried about the team!” she hissed, cupping his face. “You’re the one I
care about. Can’t you just stay behind this once? Nobody would blame you.”

“
I
would,” he said gently, pushing a pale strand of hair off her brow. “I wouldn’t be
worthy of the Pack if I allowed my brothers to face danger without me when I’m perfectly
capable.”

“Being able to hold your own is not the same as being one hundred percent. Plus, if
someone gets injured, you’re going to use your healing ability on them when that’s
the very last thing you should do.”

He shook his head, seeking to reassure her. “I won’t do that unless it’s a matter
of life and death.”

“But then
you’ll
be the one at risk, don’t you see? I’m not going to stand by and say nothing while
you kill yourself to save someone else!”