Fireborn (21 page)

“I've given you what you want,” the big wolf growled. “The least you can do is let me go before the cops get here.”

Jackson looked at me, eyebrow raised. “What do you think?”

I paused, as if considering the request, then shook my head.

“I totally agree.”

And with that, Jackson threw a punch so forceful the wolf's head snapped back and his body went limp. Jackson checked his pulse, made a satisfied-sounding grunt, then released his grip on the wolf's shirt. The big man hit the carpet with a heavy thump. Jackson stepped over his legs and met my gaze. “The ambulance is almost here. It might be worth you going to the hospital with Amanda, just in case she wakes and feels the urge to talk.”

“I'm not family, so they're not likely to let me sit in her room with her.” Besides, I hated hospitals and tended to avoid them unless there was absolutely no other choice.

“Lie and say you are. It's not like they'll ask you for ID. They rarely do in emergencies.” He handed me his car keys. “Besides, your hand needs
stitches if the state of the handkerchief is anything to go by.”

I glanced down to see blood dripping from the sodden handkerchief. “What are you going to do? Wait for the cops to arrive?”

“I'd better, if only for the sake of the cops. Wounded or not, our wolf could take out two humans without blinking an eyelid.” He cocked his head, expression intent. “There are two sirens approaching. The cops were obviously close.”

And wasn't Sam going to be happy that we'd rung the police rather than him. By the same token, our reluctance shouldn't really come as a surprise given what he'd done to us. “I'll give you a call if there's any news.”

Jackson nodded. I headed for the front door to let the paramedics and the cops in.

•   •   •

Several hours later, sporting a freshly stitched and bandaged hand, I somehow managed to convince the hospital staff I was Amanda's sister and was allowed into her treatment room.

“How is she?” I asked, as the nurse checked Amanda's charts and made some notes.

“She's been stabilized and given blood, and we've treated the nasty bite on her neck, but otherwise, she's fine. She might want to stop playing around with vampires, though. This was a close call.”

It should have been
more
than close. If Jackson and I had been a few minutes later, our black
widow would have been well and truly dead. “If she's got any brains, she will after this.”

“I'd be
making
her if she were my sister. I wouldn't let any of them damn leeches near the neck of someone I loved.” The nurse's smile was grim. “She's just lucky you found her in time.”

“That she was.”

The nurse hung the clipboard back on the end of her bed. “I'll be back in twenty to check her again.”

Once the nurse had left, I walked over to the lone chair sitting to the right of the bed and dug my phone out of my purse as I sat down. I hit Jackson's number, intending to give him an update, then realized there was no reception in this part of the hospital. I cursed softly and moved the phone around in the vague hope it might make a difference. Still nothing.

“And who the hell might you be?” Amanda's voice was low, but it held a surprising amount of strength for someone who had been hours—if not minutes—from death.

“I'm the person who saved your life, as you no doubt heard the nurse say.” I relaxed back into the chair and pushed the record button on my phone as I put it away. “And you really should be more careful about who you go to bed with.”

The confusion that flickered across her face actually seemed genuine. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you shouldn't go to bed with a vampire and a werewolf. Especially when you've reached the end of your usefulness to your employer.”

“I'm hardly likely to have bedded a man, let alone a wolf and a vamp. That wouldn't have—” She cut herself off with a cough.

“Wouldn't have looked good to the cops who are still investigating your husband's death,” I finished for her. “How long will it take them to make the black widow connection, do you think?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” she said, with such sincerity that I was almost tempted to believe her. Almost.

I crossed my legs and regarded her steadily for several seconds. If she was at all unnerved, she didn't show it. Eventually, I said, “I noticed you ignored my jibe about your employer. That might not be wise, given what's happened.”

“Look, as I've already said, I have no idea what you're talking about. If you don't get out of here, I'm going to call security.”

“You do that,” I agreed. “And the minute I'm outside, I'll ring Henry Morretti and tell him exactly where you are. I bet this time he'll send a better grade of executioner.”

Her eyebrows rose and her expression remained one of mild confusion. She should have been an actress rather than a black widow—she could have won an Academy Award with performances like this. “I still have no idea what you're talking about.”

“I'm talking about the vampire who almost bled you dry and the werewolf who fucked you while the vampire drained you. Both were sent by Henry Morretti.” I shook my head, my expression
one of mock sadness. “Seems Morretti thought you'd reached the end of your usefulness.”

“Look, as I've already said—”

“Fine.” I thrust to my feet. “I'll just go make that phone call, then.”

I was almost out of the treatment room when she said, “No, wait.”

I turned and crossed my arms. “Why should I, when you apparently don't know what I'm talking about?”

She waved a hand, the motion elegance itself. “If what you're saying is true about the vamp and the wolf, why, then, did you save me?”

“Because I'm investigating the death of your husband, and it would be hard to question you if you were dead.”

“But you wouldn't mind me being dead otherwise, if your tone is anything to go by.”

“Totally wouldn't mind, but that's beside the point.”

“At least you're honest.” Her brief smile held very little in the way of amusement. “Are you a cop?”

“No. Personally, I would rather avoid involving the cops at the moment. I'm thinking you might want to, too.”

“Possibly.” She pursed her lips. “And just to put things straight, I didn't go to bed with either a vamp or a wolf.”

“Perhaps not knowingly, but you must have let that vamp into the house. He couldn't have crossed the threshold uninvited.”

“I let a plumber in—” She paused. “Guess I need to check credentials a little closer, huh?”

“If you're going to keep playing with pond scum like the sindicati, then, yeah, that might be wise.”

“The sindicati pay in good, clean cash and, for a subcontractor like myself, they're a viable business option.”

“Except when they believe you have come to the end of your usefulness to them.”

She frowned. “That's what I don't understand. This is not the first time I've worked for them, and I'm very good at what I do. I cannot understand why they would wish to end my services in such a permanent manner.”

I didn't really understand it, either, but then, I wasn't a vampire crime boss. “Did the sindicati order the hit on Professor Wilson?”

We already knew it was the red cloaks who'd killed him, but it never hurt to double-check.

“No. Why would they? They needed him alive to keep working on his research, as he hadn't pinned down all the enzymes that are apparently responsible for a human becoming a vampire.”

So much for Jackson's theory that the red-cloaked figure had been nothing but a ruse. “Are you sure? Because another professor who was undertaking research similar to your husband's was murdered this week, and it seems very likely it was ordered by the sindicati.”

“Perhaps it was, but I do not know or care about the sindicati or their plans for other researchers.
My job was to keep tabs on Wilson and his research, and that's precisely what I did.”

“And ethics be damned?”

She shrugged. “Men and women have been using sex to get what they want for eons. I merely use it to get information for my clients.” Her smile was cool. “And trust me, the men I bed get the better end of the deal. They have me at their beck and call.”

“But afterward, they're left behind to take the blame.”

“If they live,” she murmured. “Not all of them do.”

Which made me wonder just how many other “husbands” she'd had and how many of them were still alive today. I had a bad feeling there was a whole lot more dirt swept under this woman's carpet than what we'd already uncovered.

“So how do you get the information? Pillow talk, or by breaking into his computer and copying his files?”

“Nothing so crass. I'm a telepath with a photographic memory. I might not understand what I steal, but I never forget it.”

A handy talent for a thief to have. “How do you get the information to the sindicati?”

She smiled again. A blond-haired shark with perfect white teeth. “You came here wanting information in exchange for saving my life. Why don't we make a deal?”

“What, saving your life isn't enough?”

“Well, no, because I need to be alive for you to
get your information. Therefore, I have leverage and you do not.”

“And contacting the sindicati isn't a good enough form of leverage in your eyes?”

“Oh, it's a great form of leverage, but there is one major problem. You can't get reception here in the hospital, and the minute you leave, I'm gone. You'd lose not only me, but any additional information I might hold.”

All of which was true, damn it. I eyed her warily. “What sort of deal?”

“In return for answering your questions, I want your help in removing myself from the sindicati's reach.”

“I'm thinking there's probably not going to be many areas in Australia that meet that criteria.” And maybe very few overseas.

“I agree, which is why I intend to flee overseas once I'm out of this state. I have passports and clothing at a safe place ready to go. All I need is transport there and then on to the airport.”

“A deal that certainly gives you more than it gives me.”

“Unless, of course, the information I might have also includes a hard drive containing not only every scrap of information I stole from Wilson, but every detail of anyone I ever dealt with in the sindicati.”

I blinked and her shark smile got bigger.

“It always pays to have some form of backup plan.”

“So why don't you use said backup to exchange for your freedom?”

“Because, as you said, they have obviously—for whatever reason—decided it is safer to be rid of me than use me again. Therefore, they will merely agree to the exchange and then kill me anyway.” She raised an eyebrow. “I am fully aware of what my employers are capable of. Do we have a deal?”

I hesitated, but I had no real choice and we both knew it. Not if I wanted the answers that might well be hidden somewhere in those files. Besides, given Morretti was currently off-limits investigation-wise, it couldn't hurt to have a secondary option in the sindicati to chase down and question.

“Okay. Deal.”

She held out her hand. “Shake on it.”

I leaned forward and clasped her hands. Electricity buzzed across my senses, and I smiled. “Sorry, but I'm one of those people who can't be read telepathically.”

“Well, damn.” She didn't seem too put out, however. She pushed upright in the bed and pressed the buzzer for the nurse. “Let's get out of here first; then we'll play twenty questions.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I doubt they'll release you that quickly.”

“They can't actually stop me. Besides, we both know that my only chance to escape unscathed is in the next few hours. Once the sindicati realize what has happened to their assassins, more will be unleashed.”

Undoubtedly. The nurse came in, and for the next half hour, Amanda argued her case about
being released. Eventually, the hospital staff gave up and brought in an Against Medical Advice form for her to sign. She did so, then, still in her hospital gown and wearing my coat, followed me into the parking lot.

“Right,” I said, starting Jackson's truck. “Where to?”

“Southern Cross Station.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You hid passports and clothes at a train station?”

“Best place,” she said. “And close to public transport should I need a quick escape.”

At least she wouldn't be escaping quickly in her current getup. Not when she wanted to avoid notice, anyway.

“Okay,” I said, once we were headed into the city. “Time to start upholding your end of the deal. What have you been told about Wilson's death?”

She shrugged. “Not much. The police simply said a man in a red-hooded cloak all but sliced him to pieces.”

“And his body? Has it been released by the coroner yet?” If it had been, then maybe Jackson could use his contact again and get us the coroner's report. It might not help, but it couldn't hurt, either.

“No, it hasn't, simply because there was no body.”

I blinked. “What?”

“There was no body.” Her expression was amused. This time, the emotion was real. “The
thug in the red cloak took his body with him when he ran off.”

“But that makes no sense.”

Why kill him in broad daylight and then snatch his body? Were the red cloaks making some kind of statement? Or was there something else going on? Something that was far bigger than this investigation—bigger, maybe, than even Sam realized?

I had a
bad
feeling that might be the case.

And was it possible, I thought with a chill, that they'd snatched Wilson's body to ensure
they
had him when he came to?