Deliver Me from Temptation (6 page)

Jessica strode down the sidewalk, frustration lengthening her stride. The car was there. Only she couldn’t touch it without a warrant because it was a private garage. Otherwise, anything they collected would get discarded for illegal search and seizure. She needed some sort of evidence—besides her findings from her recent B and E—like, say, evidence of a concierge taking a bribe on the side and filling up unrented slots with a nontenant’s car.

Many buildings with private garages needed a key card for access. Most of the attendants they’d asked earlier in the day had been more than willing to let her and Mike in for a quick look-see. Of the few who weren’t, she got the impression they refused for job security concerns and nothing more. There was only one who set off her alarms. Something about the shifty-eyed concierge in the second-to-last building they visited and his assurances that he knew every car in every spot of his garage—of which Tom’s Mustang was not one—had rubbed her nerves wrong. She’d taken Mike back to the station, the plan being to work on getting what they might need for their warrants in the morning, but something in her gut told her not to wait.

Jess didn’t doubt the man knew every car in his garage. Which meant he knew Tom’s was there and probably other cars that shouldn’t be. Jess was willing to bet that after she and Mike left he was on the phone telling those pocket-lining customers they might want to find alternate housing for their vehicles, just in case. At least it wasn’t like Tom could answer his phone if the guy called and told him to move his Mustang. Still, the sooner Jessica had that warrant the happier she’d be.

Jessica hurried down the block, fighting the urge to break into a run. She needed to make a connection between Thomas and that building or at least his car and that building. Which meant more canvassing. And since she’d left the photos in her car that was where she was going. It was only nine thirty. A little late but not so late that she couldn’t start flashing both Tom’s picture and the description of the Mustang in question to some of the apartment’s inhabitants. Or maybe the concierge was gone for the night and she could convince whoever was managing the desk to tell her if anyone actually lived in the apartment that corresponded with parking slot C-15. If no one did, that might get her permission to “legally” check out the garage.

Jessica walked on, dodging other pedestrians. After a few blocks, she got the creepy suspicion someone was dogging her steps. It was hard to tell for sure when there were over a dozen candidates for her paranoia. Maybe it was the strangeness of the last twenty-four hours. Abandoned streets, missing memories, and then her little talk with her suspect’s friend outside the station.

Something about her encounter with Logan had really rattled her and it wasn’t just the sexual attraction. There was no denying she was drawn to him. No. Drawn wasn’t the right word. All she knew was that her thoughts never completely focused on the task at hand. Instead, she found herself returning to Mr. Logan Calhoun and his steel gray eyes, the rolling timbre of his voice as he spoke with conviction about his faith in his friend and his belief in a higher power.

That was probably it. The whole faith thing. Mr. Calhoun might be willing to put his trust in a higher power, but Jessica had learned the hard way that if there were a higher being, He stopped looking out for the innocents like Julia long ago.

Argh. She swallowed down the hard knot in her throat. She had to get it together. Even with her shoulders itching, she had become unfocused when she should be alert for the source of her unease.

She stretched her stride, easing her hand onto the butt of her gun inside her jacket as she entered the garage where she’d left her Chevy. With a last quick glance behind her she stepped inside the elevator and pressed the button for her level. No one followed.

Taking a deep breath, she allowed herself to slump against the back of the car. It had been a long day, filled with breakthroughs and roadblocks, one right after the other. And as much as she’d love to go home and get some real sleep, the clock was ticking on getting that warrant.

As soon as she was out of the garage, she needed to call Mike. Unlike her last couple partners who could have cared less, she’d been working with Mike long enough to know he wasn’t going to be happy that she went back without him, would probably even bark a bit over her little excursion, but she doubted he’d bite.

I’ll buy him coffee and donuts or something. Food always tames the man-beast.

The doors swished open in front of her. She stepped out onto the pitted cement, squaring her shoulders. She took five steps when the first scuff of shoe announced she was not as alone as she’d thought. Trying not to look obvious, she twisted her head around.

Two men. Two sets of eyes. Watching her. Intently.

Crap.

She spun, planting her feet as she pulled her jacket back, making sure they got a good look at her Sig. “You gentlemen aren’t following me, are you?”

Instead of answering, the men spread apart, one staying between her and the way out and one flanking her.

She took a step back, and the man in front of her took his own step to follow. Her scalp prickled. Something about this seemed damn familiar.

She shook off the feeling, flicking the strap off her gun. “Come on, boys. You don’t really want to end tonight in lockup do you?”

The one in front of her smiled, his lips curling back slowly to expose a dentist’s dream set of pearlies. Nice and even and…What the hell? Something was seriously fucked up with his canines.

Probably just caps. Some sort of cosmetic dentistry. Even so, those teeth, more than the flickering lights of the garage or the two bulky thugs made her palm sweat a bit against the butt of her gun.
Stop
it, Jessica. You don’t believe in this shit, remember?

A shiver ran over her exposed skin, sweat chilling in the cool night, but she forced herself to move, popping the gun from its holster. She hadn’t even gotten the gun level when the second thug lunged, coming in at her from the side. Still, she should’ve been able to spin into the attack. Even if she didn’t get a chance at a clear shot, she should have been prepared for the impact, yet she barely blinked and he was on her, his hand slamming against her already abused wrist and sending her weapon sailing.

Fine. She could play, too.

She turned into the attack, knuckles skimming off an iron jaw. He laughed, a thick hand snaking into her hair and jerking her back against him. Jessica twisted, trying to get a good elbow into his ribs, but she lacked the leverage to cause any damage. She went for the instep, but he released his grip on her hair and pushed her away.

She stumbled, trying to spin. A booted foot slammed into her spine, sending her to the ground. Pavement smacked her hard in the jaw. Her assailant followed her down, his weight enough to knock the air out of her lungs and plant her face back into the pavement. Pain radiated across her cheekbone. Darkness tunneled in, contorting the edges of her vision.

“Aren’t you going to be a nice treat?” Heat seared across the nape of her neck by her ear. His words were contorted and slow as she struggled against the dark, against the heavy weight smothering her.

The reality of what was happening spiraled Jessica further into panic. Not possible. His speed, his strength. The way he tossed her around like a rag doll? None of it made sense. She was a better fighter than this. This couldn’t be happening.

And then it wasn’t. Abruptly the weight lifted off her with a ground-shaking roar.

She sucked in deep breaths. Lights sparkled in front of her eyes. Warm moisture ran down one side of her face and neck, the scent coppery and sweet.

Blood. Her blood.

She tried to push up, her arms shaking beneath her, pain radiating through her jaw and up her right cheekbone. What happened? Did they leave?

A grunt told her she’d had no such luck. She lifted her head to see why they gave her a break and felt her mouth go slack.

Her assailants weren’t attacking her anymore because they had a bigger problem. Another man, a good head taller than the guy who smacked into her, and definitely more fit than both, had come to her rescue and was occupying all their attention. The fight was vicious and dirty, fists and feet flying so fast she could barely follow. It looked like something right out of an urban fighter video game. Their styles were a mix of martial arts and down and dirty street moves as they tussled, blocked, and slammed each other around, always moving, the action too quick to allow her to decide who was winning.

It was after one such slam that her rescuer’s head lifted, his hair falling back from his eyes, his steely gaze meeting hers. “Jessica, run!”

She blinked again. A precious second lost as she watched her rescuer, in his moment of distraction, take one to the face, knocking his head back in neck snapping action.

“Logan!” she yelled, even as she watched him return the punch, sliding away from the second man’s attack in an elegant twist that had them both swatting at air for a moment before they recovered, double-teaming him again.

Hell no.

Jessica scrambled to her feet, shaking off the last of the fuzziness and spinning back toward the stairs and elevator. She’d be damned if she’d run, but she also wasn’t an idiot. Her gun was the only thing that could level the playing field. Only, crap, there was an added complication. Halfway between her and the stairs was another man dressed in a slick dark suit, his tie loosened around his neck and a leather briefcase slung across his shoulder. He was holding her gun, looking slightly dazed as he watched the ongoing struggle behind her.

In shock? Or just scared into inaction?

“Police. Give me the gun,” she said levelly, approaching the man far slower than she actually wanted to for fear of startling him into pulling the trigger. She must have been weaving, or her vision wasn’t clear yet, because the next thing she knew the man was directly in front of her, his arm stretching out to steady her. She gasped as his hand closed around her forearm, her face tipping up to his. Only something with his face was wrong. Almost too perfect. Her second request for the gun died on her lips just as his mouth pulled back into a twisted smile.

“He is right. You are a treat.”

A shiver ran down her spine, horror punching through denial and twisting into her belly. The man’s voice did not match his face. Not at all perfect. Scratchy. And his eyes. They were absolutely black. Empty. Void of anything.

Jess was so repulsed by his eyes that it took her a moment to notice the sharp points of stinging pain in her arm. She drew her gaze away from the horror of the man’s eyes, her nose crinkling against the smell of burnt eggs, and pulled back in shock at the sight of his hand. His fingers had elongated into four distinct joints, the tips like black crow claws, dark liquid seeping into the cotton fabric of her jacket. Blood. From her arm.

It was too much. It was positively too much. Jessica screamed.

***

Infused with urgency after hearing Jessica’s scream, Logan smashed his hand up into the base of the man’s nose in front of him, slamming the bone up into the skull. The man crumpled. The blow would’ve been mortal for a human, but merely temporarily immobilized this asshole while his skull and its sloshy fill regenerated. Because, fuck, this was no human, and neither was his buddy.

Vampires. Jess had been attacked by vampires. Whatever. Man. Vampire. Both these fuckers were going to die for daring to touch her.

With a snarl, Logan plowed his fist into the creature’s chest, using a twist of power to transform his inner light into a pulsing stake. It flared with just enough energy to burn through the muscled organ. A split second later there was a pop and a roar, and a cloud of dust exploded around Logan.

Only the take down hadn’t been nearly fast enough. Hands closed like vises around his biceps. Sharp pain sliced into the base of his neck as the second vampire’s fangs latched on. Logan roared, grappling behind him until his fingers found the soft bulge of the creature’s eye sockets. Ruthlessly he jabbed his fingers in. The vampire howled, stumbling back. Logan followed, grasping one of the creature’s flailing hands and wrenching the vampire around. A good shove and yank and the vampire was on its knees, its arm up behind his back, the shoulder twisted into an unnatural state.

With another roar Logan called his light again, though this time his stake pierced up from under the creature’s shoulder blade. Another pulse of power and another poof of ash.

Logan spun around, squinting to see through the curtain of dust settling around him. Jessica stopped screaming too long ago. It was almost a relief to see her standing near the elevators twenty yards away, until he focused in on the creature standing in front of her shredding its human skin for its true form. Joints popped, fabric ripped, exposing flesh that was darkening as it tightened like bat skin on the creature’s protruding bones.

Claws, hooves, fangs. Oh yeah, a demon.

“Jessica!” He called her name, hoping to snap her out of her apparent shock, get her to move, get her to react enough so he’d have a better chance at a clear shot. But she was deaf to all but her terror—a roaring ocean that threatened to drown her as it surged over him.

And when the hell had he become so in tune to another’s emotions?

His heart pounded, his gut clawing up his esophagus. His skin turned clammy as he grasped for the light. His weapon. The one thing sure to eradicate the creature threatening Jessica. If he could just calm himself enough to pull from it…

He flung out his left arm, icy panic forcing him to resort to childish movements in order to channel the power. Even then, only a pitifully small ball of His light rocketed from his hands, barely fizzling as it smacked the demon in the temple. The demon jerked, but didn’t dissolve. It merely lifted its head and snarled at Logan before turning back to its prey.

Logan watched in horror as the creature spread a hypnotized Jessica onto the floor. The contents of Logan’s stomach curdled as the demon’s clawed fingers cupped Jessica’s face, its forked tongue darting out as if it could taste the soul of the woman recumbent before him.