When Temptation Burns: A Shadow Keepers Novel (Shadow Keepers 6) (32 page)

“What’s going down?” Doyle asked as he climbed into Paul’s Mercedes. They’d agreed to meet at a grocery store on the West Side, and Doyle had hurried to get there, leaving his Pontiac parked in the lot. Despite the fact that the store was open twenty-four hours, only four other cars were scattered across the lot.

He slammed the passenger side door, and Paul pulled out into traffic. “We have a lead on a location. But first we have to meet with a source.”

Doyle turned to look more closely at Paul. “A source?”

Paul grinned. “Trust me. You’ll find it interesting.”

“Just you and me?”

Paul shook his head. “Bryce and some of the men are already on site, along with one of our newer assets.” He tapped the brakes at a light and turned to grin at Doyle. “We’re going vampire hunting. Thought that your particular skill in that area might come in handy.”

Doyle forced himself to keep his expression bland. “Do you think that’s smart? This close to a large operation, you don’t want to risk revealing yourself to the creatures.”

“Can’t be helped. We have intel that this particular vampire can identify our target location. In other words it’s worth the risk. And it should be one hell of a lot of fun.”

“Shit yeah,” Doyle said, feeling slightly sick. “Got a name?”

“Vamp’s name is Millicent. According to our source, she was taken to someplace called Division Six, which is apparently where those fuckers congregate. It’s all falling together.”

“Division Six. Sounds spurious. Are you sure this source isn’t pulling your chain?”

“I think it’s solid,” Paul said. “But even if it turns out to be bullshit, the worst that happens is we take out one more vampire.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Doyle said. “Where are we going now?”

“Some place called the Club Rouge.” He glanced at his watch. “And we should be right on time.”

Doyle forced himself not to react. He wasn’t worried about being recognized—the club had been cleared out before his arrival. But Millicent was the eyewitness who had been interrogated at Division headquarters. In other words, Paul’s plan was pretty fucking feasible.

Shit
.

They left the car a block away and then walked to the rendezvous site—a retaining wall above an alley at the back of the club. Bryce gave him a curt nod, then told Paul that the other men were set up on the roof. Doyle tilted his head back so that he could get a better look at the roof, but the men were positioned out of his line of sight—the only sign that they were there was the gleam of their sniper rifles.

As Paul and Bryce talked, Doyle ran through his options. The fact that Paul now knew that the shadowers operated under the guise of Division 6 meant that it wouldn’t be long before he figured out their location,
with or without Millicent. Because Division 6 was, in fact, an on-the-books arm of Homeland Security, albeit one that engaged entirely in secret operations.

Once he made the connection between Division 6 and Homeland, he’d undoubtedly make the connection to Doyle. It meant that Doyle’s days inside were numbered. And although they’d all been hoping that the PEC could shut Paul down on the eve of an operation—thus casting the widest net and capturing the most players—now it looked like the better plan was to move in as soon as possible, while Doyle still had access. This morning, even—after this operation, when the men were still celebrating their victory.

Yes, their victory. Because there was no way that he could thwart the mission without risking his cover. And he needed to keep that cover at least until the PEC could move in.

Antsy, he watched the back door of the club, taking small comfort in the fact that Paul had made it clear that he didn’t intend to kill Millicent. Not yet, anyway.

Beside him, Bryce and another man were getting into position. “I need a weapon,” Doyle said.

“We’re using tranq guns,” Bryce said, “with Tasers for backup. I’ll get one of each for you.” He started to turn, then tapped his ear. “Hang on. Go ahead?” Doyle watched Bryce’s brow furrow as he listened. He glanced once at Doyle, then at Paul. Then he nodded. “Affirmative,” he said, ending the communication.

“Well?” Paul said.

“We have confirmation,” Bryce said. “She’s in there.”

“Weapons?” Doyle reminded him.

“Right,” Bryce said. A black duffel was lying open
beside him, and he pulled out a Taser. “Here you go,” he said—
and fired it
.

A web of electrical tendrils encircled Doyle, and he fell backward, shaking, trying to fight the debilitating effect of the high voltage that was racing through him.

“What the hell are you doing?” Paul rushed forward, trying to knock the Taser from Bryce’s hand, but Bryce shifted, keeping the charge on full and on Doyle.

“He’s one of them.” His voice was low and urgent. “That was Creevey on the comm. He’s got a clear view of us from his position on the roof. And he says that Doyle is one of them.”

Paul slammed his fist on the antique desk that filled his private study in the safe house.

“What the hell is he?” Paul demanded, looking hard at both Bryce and Creevey. “What the hell is that
thing
that wormed its way into my operation?”

His fury was hot and palpable. It took a lot to fool Paul Vassalo, and goddammit, Doyle had managed to do it. He’d played his little mind games with Travis, he’d put on a fancy show with the vampire, and Paul had swallowed it all. He’d been made to look like a fool, and that wasn’t acceptable. That wasn’t acceptable at all.

“Well?” he demanded of the two men who still hadn’t spoken.

“I don’t know,” Creevey said. “He can go out in the daylight, so he’s not a vamp.”

“And the electricity hasn’t caused the eruption of hair or any bone changes,” Bryce said, “so he’s not a werewolf. I’m not going to risk getting too close, but his
skin’s taken on an orange hue, and his eyes—well, they’re not normal. But what that adds up to—I haven’t a clue.”

“They just keep propagating,” Paul said. “Like goddamned cockroaches. You step on one, and a dozen more come scrambling out of the garbage.” He rounded on Bryce. “He’s under control? You’re sure the bastard isn’t going to bust out anytime soon?”

“I’ve got him locked up in the weapons vault off of the garage.”

“Without the weapons, I hope.”

“We moved them out, but it was the best cell I could rig up for him. I don’t know what Doyle is, but electricity rips him a new one. The floor in there’s metal, and the walls are conductive. I’ve got it rigged to run a constant current. He touches the floor or the walls, and he’s slammed with electricity.”

“Hard not to touch the floor or walls.”

“Not unless he can fly,” Bryce said, then shrugged. “Hell, for all I know, maybe he can.”

Paul ignored that disturbing possibility. “It’s locked?”

“The door is shut and locked up tight.”

“Even if he can fly, the ride will be over once he reaches one of the walls.” He nodded, satisfied. “For now, that’ll do. We’ll deal with him more thoroughly after we move against Division Six.”

“Just kill the son-of-a-bitch now,” Creevey said.

Paul shook his head. “No, he made this personal. I intend to make Mr. Doyle pay for his transgressions, and I need sufficient time to properly extract that payment.”

“My kind of guy,” Creevey said. He stretched out his
arms and sighed. “And thanks mightily for that antidote. I feel better already.”

Paul bit back the retort that formed on his lips. “You earned it. You delivered the location, not to mention valuable information about the infiltration of my organization.” He nodded toward Bryce. “Take our guest to his quarters. We’ll return him to the wilds of Los Angeles tomorrow. Blindfolded, of course. I have no intention of letting a son-of-a-bitch like him know where our safe house is located.”

Creevey snorted. “Fair enough.”

Paul caught Bryce’s eyes, saw the quick nod as he led Creevey away. Little fucker thought he’d gotten away with something? Not damn likely. A man like that—a human who actually wanted to be a vampire?—Paul had no use for such a man. He’d paid the price; he’d administered the antidote. But he’d never once promised that the bastard would be kept safe afterward.

Still, he had to admit that Creevey had been useful. Without the sociopath, they wouldn’t have captured Millicent. And it had taken only one injection of hematite for the bitch vampire to reveal everything she knew. That Division 6 was a secret preternatural organization. That highly placed humans actually knew about it, and it was hidden within Homeland Security. That news had disgusted Paul—important men, men who were supposed to be protecting this country, not only knew about these creatures, but actively supported their insinuation into the human world.

The only good bit of information had been the location. That, at last, had been nailed down. The Criminal Justice Building in downtown Los Angeles was their target.
And at this very moment, Travis was putting Phase I into place.

“Who would have thought these creatures would be holed up in the Criminal Justice Building?” Bryce said. “But at least we’ve got Travis.”

“And his ID badge and parking pass,” Paul agreed. All in all, it had worked out very well. Travis’s access to the building eradicated at least a dozen security issues. “We move in tomorrow,” he said, then looked at Bryce. “Your men will be ready?”

“Of course.”

“Good. There will be human casualties.”

“With that target, it’s inevitable.”

Paul nodded. “Call Andrew Tarrent. I’d like to speak to him in his official capacity before we move out. He can pray for the souls of the martyrs. And ask him to bring Andrea. I have a job for her, too.”

The doorbell rang, and Andy threw it open, relieved to see Tucker standing on the stoop.

“Thank you for coming. I feel like an idiot for calling, but I’ve been so worried.”

“What time did he leave?”

“About four
A.M.
,” she said, shutting the door and following him inside. “He got a call from Paul about something going down, and he went. He said he’d come right back. I didn’t necessarily expect him to, but I thought he’d at least phone. Or text. Something.”

Tucker tossed himself down on her couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him. “We haven’t heard anything, either.”

“You’re worried. Oh, shit. You’re worried.”

“Doyle can take care of himself,” Tucker said. “Believe me.”

“I know.”

He cocked his head and looked at her. “What do you know?”

“Everything,” she said. “At least I think so. That he’s a paradaemon. That he feeds on souls. That he and Luke had one hell of a falling-out. And that you play mind games.”

“He did tell you everything.” The surprise in Tucker’s voice was unmistakable.

“He’s probably okay, right? I mean, how would they have found out about him?”

“I don’t know. But I think the best thing to do is assume that the mission is under control. If they’re moving in soon, maybe he just doesn’t have his phone with him. They could be doing weapons tech, keeping anything with an RF signal away from the detonators. We don’t know what’s happening.”

She nodded, slightly appeased. “But you’re still worried?”

“Paul’s a brutal son-of-a-bitch. We’ve had a team investigating the werewolves who butchered Stu—”

“Were they the ones who attacked us at Wes’s house?”

“They were. But that’s not my point. It’s about one of Paul’s men—that guy Aaron?”

“Paul said he died in the attack.”

“Oh, he died. He was bitten. But when we went to recover his body, we saw that his throat had been slashed, too.”

“What? Why?”

“Guess Paul didn’t want to risk his little soldier turning into a werewolf.”

“You’re not making me feel any better.”

He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I really do think he’ll be fine. He’s been my partner for years, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that he’s got a few tricks up his sleeve.” He looked at her. “You really care for him.”

It wasn’t a question, but she answered anyway. “Yes, I do.”

“Good. He’s fucking head over heels for you.”

She couldn’t hide her smile. “Really?”

“Cross my heart.”