Seduced by Blood

Once, after a crazy pursuit of several DBs that took all night, he’d found her in the field office computer lab. She’d known he was coming for her and was wriggling off her panties as he stormed into the room. Thinking the place was empty, he shoved her up against the wall, unzipped his fly and plunged himself into her heat.

“Nice ass,” Jackson had said to him the next night when they were shooting hoops in the gym.

“Huh?”

“A couple of us guys were playing poker over at Cordell’s.”

“Yeah, and?”

“You apparently forgot that he set up a live feed to the computer lab to answer questions while he was home helping Shannon after her surgery. We enjoyed the show last night, although all we could see of it was your cute little bum.”

“Glad you liked it,” he’d said, throwing the basketball hard at Jackson’s chest. “Hope you picked up a few pointers.”

“We were glued to the monitors.”

Electronic static crackled in his ear and jerked him back to the present. When he got home tonight, he’d make sure to check for wayward camera equipment first.

He touched his earpiece. “Everyone in place?”

Jonah and Sadie answered first. “Affirmative.” Positioned on the north end of the warehouse, they’d enter the building at the loading docks.

The line crackled again then Jackson said, “Mitchie and I are ready to kick some Darkblood ass.” A grunt and scuffling could be heard through the connection.

“Hey. Ouch.”

Mitch didn’t like that nickname, which only gave Jackson more ammunition to harass him with.

“Ladies, no catfights.”

One more team to report, then they’d go in.

Based on intel Santiago had obtained from a DB captured near Region, they surmised that the shipment contained very deadly weapons—blades and bullets—made from high quality Mexican silver. Merely touching Santa Muerte silver would weaken a vampire, which was why the Agency used it in handcuffs and other restraints. One nick from a blade caused very severe silver poisoning, more than a lesser-quality silver would. If this shit got out on the streets and into the hands of DBs and other reverts, it could cause all sorts of problems. While most Agency-forged blades were made with the stuff, Darkbloods’ weapons weren’t. Having been shot by such a bullet once, Dom knew only too well how devastating an injury from it could be and absently rubbed his shoulder. If Mackenzie hadn’t stumbled across him when she had, he surely would have died.

It wasn’t often this kind of silver was found in non-Agency weapons. Many years ago, the Santa Muerte mines had been shut down and sealed. Darkbloods conducted raids from time to time, trying to get their hands on the raw material, but as far as anyone knew, they never succeeded. The weapons they did find were ones they’d plucked from charcoaled Guardians.

“Team three? You there?”

No answer.

“Gibson?” With Lily gone, he’d requested Jackson’s friend Val Gibson come up from the San Diego office to help them out here in Seattle. They often traded personnel when either of the two offices needed more agents. He’d arrived yesterday and had been fully briefed on the situation.

Where the hell was he? His team should’ve checked in by now.

For a moment Dom wondered if they did things differently down there. With the relatively small vampire population up here compared to Southern California, there were apt to be variations in protocol. But they went over everything back at the field office and Gibson assured him he understood procedure. His team was to get into position near the west entrance and wait for the signal from Dom. Wasn’t the guy right behind them when they got out of the van back at the staging point a mile up the road?

“Gibby,” Jackson said, the strain in his voice obvious. “Where the hell are you?”

Dom was seriously considering aborting the mission when the guy finally answered.

“Yeah, sorry.” He sounded out of breath. “Tambra and I are here and in place.”

Jackson cursed through the line. “What the hell were you doing? Getting a blow job?”

“Ha, I wish. Maybe later.”

A woman coughed. “Don’t you be giving me the hairy eyeball, Gibby, because it’s not happening.”

Joking aside, Dom was proud of his team, how everyone worked together. They poked fun and harassed each other, but they were some of the finest Guardians in North America—highly trained and very loyal. “Now, does everyone know what we’re doing when we get in there?”

Yeses and uh-huhs echoed through the line.

“None of you better be lying to me about wearing your protective gear either. If this shipment is what we think it is, they’re going to be armed with Santa Muerte silver.”

He tugged at the neckline of his vest. Even though it was standard procedure, he’d always been averse to wearing them, but now that he was a husband and father, he was living for more than just himself. The snug fit and added bulk wasn’t the pain in the ass it used to be.

They all confirmed they were wearing their gear.

Knowing they had this mission tonight, he’d taken Mackenzie’s blood so that he was fully energized and able to use his special powers if he needed to. Because they were Enlazado por la Sangre—bonded by blood—her lifeblood did all sorts of things to him, including infusing him with the ancient power to vapor. By turning himself into smoke, he could seep through the smallest of cracks.

The ability had come in handy several times, including last week when his son accidentally locked himself in the bathroom. Miguel was crying and couldn’t figure out how to unlock the door from the inside. When Dom vapored under the door and materialized on the other side, Miguel stared at him a moment then burst out laughing. With thick tears still streaming down his face, he held out his fat little arms for Dom to pick him up and comfort him. His heart swelled just thinking about how much he loved his son and loved being a father.

The scent of Darkbloods was thick in the air. Dom considered having his Guardians go in stealthily, but they needed to get in fast and prevent anyone from leaving or destroying anything. The Agency needed to find out how they were getting the weapons, who was supplying them.

“Okay, then. We go in on three…two…one. Go.” Dom spun away from the wall and sprinted across the small expanse of pavement to the east entrance. A well-placed kick and the door flew open. Once inside, he morphed into the darkness and shadow-moved quickly past a row of stacked pallets.

Jonah and Sadie emerged from the left. Jackson and Mitch came through the double doors at the far end. Gibby and Tambra ran in from the right. They all met in the middle.

Dom stood with his hands on his hips and surveyed the place. Where were the DBs? Though he was no tracker, he distinctly picked up the scent of several of them and yet the place seemed empty. Something must’ve alerted them to the Guardians’ presence. With rows of boxes and shelving that stretched to the ceiling and several offices along the back wall, it was possible they were hiding.

“They’ve got to be in here,” he said through clenched teeth. “I can smell them.”

“Me, too,” someone said.

“Let’s fan out.” As everyone scattered, he followed the scent to several palettes of flattened cardboard in front of a Dumpster. They must be inside.

Dom kicked the Dumpster and the sound echoed throughout the warehouse. Nothing stirred inside. As he reached for the warped lid, the scent hit him. It was old blood without an energy signature.

Carefully, he lifted the black cover and peered inside. There, on a big heap of garbage, were the mangled bodies of three Darkbloods. Regeneration could grow back limbs, but not severed heads.

He didn’t understand. His team was the only Guardian unit with authority here. He’d even pulled a few agents off other assignments. But if not Guardians, who else would’ve killed them? And why wouldn’t they have been staked? That was the typical way his people dispensed with their enemies, not by dismemberment.

Something wasn’t right. He backed away from the Dumpster, noticed a few of his agents slipping between the rows of shelving. It occurred to him that maybe it hadn’t been Guardians who had done this, but other Darkbloods. It was vicious, not clean and fast.

Why would DBs kill their own people? A turf war? Maybe another group not affiliated with them were after the weapons and—

“What the hell is that?” Sadie came up behind him and pointed to a series of wires on the ground leading from the nearest pallet and disappearing behind one of the shelves.

Craning his neck, he noticed similar wires wrapped around the metal support beams, but he couldn’t tell where they originated. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

And then a goddamn freight train sounded in his ears.

“It’s a trap!” he yelled at his team. Darkbloods had dismembered their own people in order for Guardians to think they were inside. “Get your asses out of here.”

Boots pounded and echoed through the building as everyone bolted for the doors. Everyone, that is, except Sadie.

Goddamn it. He spun around and, spotting her back by the Dumpster, he shadow-moved to her as quickly as he could. “I gave an order, Agent. Let’s go.”

“Hold on. I’ve been trained in render safe procedures. I can disarm it.” She started to follow a set of wires down one of the aisles, but he grabbed her arm.

“There’s no time. It’s too risky.”

“But—”

He didn’t wait for her to finish. Instead, he hauled her toward the nearest exit, ignoring her protests.

As he shoved her through the door, he heard a faint clicking noise behind him and threw a quick glance over his shoulder. Was another member of his team still left inside? He could’ve sworn he’d made an accurate head count. Goddamn it, why didn’t any—

And then the building exploded.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE HELICOPTER LANDED just before dawn. Many of the people who worked at Region stood near the landing pad or just inside the doors, waiting for the injured to be taken off the aircraft. From what Roxy understood, there’d been an explosion in Seattle and several Guardians had been severely injured.

Santiago rushed the helicopter as the rotors spun loudly above him.

The doors opened and the medics wasted no time whisking a dark-haired man wrapped in bandages into the region’s medical facility. A young woman followed closely behind them, her face ashen, a squirming toddler wrapped in her arms. Brenna waved to the pilot as she fell into step behind the group.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell happened?” Santiago asked the man on the gurney.

This was obviously someone of importance, as he didn’t address his question to the two other people who had climbed out of the aircraft under their own power. The attendants who were pushing the patient down the sterile hallway didn’t slow down, so Santiago had to jog after them to keep up.

“Our location…compromised,” the man called out, his voice strained and laced with pain. “They knew…we were going…to be there.”

The gurney burst through the doors of the surgical wing and Brenna had to stop Santiago and the woman from following.

“Please tell me he’s going to be all right,” the woman sobbed. “That man…is my life.”

Brenna gave her a quick hug. “We’ll do everything we can to save him, Mackenzie. I promise.”

The double doors had hardly swung shut before Santiago erupted in a volley of cursing and punched his fist through the wall. Clutching the boy like a lifeline, the woman slid to the ground.

EVER SINCE THE injured had been brought in, the offices had been strangely quiet. No loud talking or laughing by anyone anywhere, just hushed whispers. Although the tragedy had happened down in Seattle, it clearly had a profound impact on everyone. The gym was empty, the cafeteria subdued. When someone passed in the hallway, instead of a “Hi, how are you,” no one gave more than a thin-lipped smile of acknowledgment. Having gotten used to everyone’s friendly and welcoming natures, the change was obvious to Roxy.

Her students filed into the classroom one by one, their gazes fixed to the ground. As usual when Roxy pressed the button on the remote control for the interactive whiteboard showing today’s topics, nothing happened. The screen should’ve dropped from the ceiling and the Powerpoint slides, which were displayed on her monitor, should’ve been displayed there, as well. She pressed another button. Still nothing.

She glanced around the room. Her go-to guy hadn’t arrived yet. No matter. She was an intelligent woman and this was just a simple piece of technology. Hell, she used such teaching equipment down at the Academy, just not this brand.

Pushing a chair directly under the ceiling-mounted control panel, she kicked off her heels and stepped onto the seat, careful not to let her skirt ride up too much. Just inches away from it now, she aimed the remote right at the thing and stabbed at a few more buttons. Again, nothing.

Exasperated, she stepped down. “Is Raymond coming?” She could’ve sworn that she was pressing the same buttons he did, but he was the only one who could get the thing to work.

“I’m not sure, Ms. Reynolds. He knows one of the guys who was hurt, so I’ll bet he’s pretty shaken up.”

Without putting her shoes back on, she sat down on the edge of the desk, thinking. Given that three other students weren’t here either, Raymond wasn’t the only one too upset to come to class. And of those who did come, she could see in their eyes how distracted they were. If only there was a chalkboard or something else to write on, but that fancy whiteboard was it.

“Tell you what. I can see that everyone’s heart isn’t into this. And to tell you the truth, neither is mine. How about we cancel class for today and I’ll email you the assignment?”

The students murmured their agreement.

“Let’s hope we hear good news soon.”

After everyone gathered their things and exited the classroom, she tucked her laptop under her arm and left, as well. She considered heading back and getting lost in a book for the rest of the day, but the thought of sitting by herself wasn’t very appealing. Normally, she enjoyed being by herself, but with everything that had happened, she found herself dreading being alone.

Seeing Mackenzie’s husband laid out on the stretcher reminded her of the night when Ian was killed. Only Ian wasn’t brought in on a gurney, but in a plastic bag. She only hoped that Mackenzie wouldn’t experience what she had all those years ago, when the man she once loved had died.

No, she definitely didn’t want to be alone in her room in a strange place. It brought up too many terrible memories she’d just as soon forget.

She planned to head back to drop off her things and change, then go find the sanctuary Brenna had told her about. She’d light some candles and say a few prayers for the injured. She was deep in thought when she realized she was in a part of the labyrinth of offices she hadn’t been before. Nothing looked familiar. And then she heard the soft sounds of a woman crying.

She peered around the corner into a small waiting area and realized she must be in the medical clinic part of the offices.

There in the corner on a sofa sat Mackenzie. Her son was wrapped in a blanket on her lap, his thumb in his mouth, sleeping. It was apparent she was trying not to cry and wake him.

Roxy hesitated at first. Maybe Mackenzie wanted to be alone in her sorrow. But then she remembered the horrible emptiness she’d felt while she waited for news from the doctors. She had hoped they’d come in and tell her that the charcoaled remains weren’t Ian’s. That he’d just been injured and it was one of the other agents who’d been killed. She’d longed for someone to sit with her quietly and be her rock, but she’d had no one.

She grabbed a box of tissues from a nearby side table and set them next to Mackenzie. “Can I get you some water?”

Mackenzie looked up at her with tear-filled eyes and nodded.

Roxy wanted to wrap her arms around her and tell her that everything was going to be okay. That her husband was not only going to live but that he’d make a full recovery so the two of them would have a long life together, filled with happiness and many more babies. Instead, she returned a moment later with a bottle of water from the small refrigerator near the door.

“Want me to hold him for you?” Roxy whispered, handing her the bottle and sitting down next to her.

Mackenzie smiled gratefully and took a small sip. “That’s okay. He’d probably just wake up anyway.”

The woman drank almost the whole bottle and Roxy wondered when was the last time she’d had anything to eat. “They’re good up here, you know. The clinic.” Lily’s mom was one of the finest doctors in all of North America and if Roxy ever got hurt, she’d want to be treated by Dr. DeGraff.

“I hope to God it’s enough.”

“WE’RE COMING back.”

Even through the secure video feed into the region’s conference room, the stress on Alfonso’s face was as obvious as if it had been etched with black sharpie. Normally an expert at hiding his emotion, he was having a hard time controlling it today. Santiago had to bite his tongue to keep from ordering him to stay put. He knew the man needed the time away, but Dom was Alfonso’s brother. The two had been estranged for years and just recently had been able to put the past behind them.

“They’re doing all they can to save him. There’s not much you can do at this point except pray.”

“Not much we can do?” Alfonso looked as though he might lunge through the monitor and strangle him. “We can be there for my sister-in-law and nephew.”

“How’s Mackenzie doing?” Lily asked, her hand on Alfonso’s arm. “I’ve been trying to call her but it keeps going straight to voice mail.”

Her pained expression was a stark contrast to the bright colored headband she wore, which she’d probably picked up in one of the Hill Country’s local markets. Santiago could hear Spanish guitar music floating in through the open window behind them.

“She’s pretty shaken up,” he replied. “But Roxanne has been staying with her. Hasn’t left her side.”

That morning, he’d walked past the clinic waiting room and had seen Mackenzie crying into her shoulder while Roxanne rubbed her back. Why did everyone else seem to find her presence so calming when she had just the opposite effect on him? She drove him crazy with her incense and candles, and for some reason, he became acutely aware of his faults, his every imperfection when she was around. It made it hard for him to think clearly.

Alfonso scrubbed a hand over his face. “From what you’ve said, I can’t help thinking there’s a traitor in the Seattle field office.”

“Impossible.” Jackson put his boots on the conference room table and leaned back in his chair. He’d been quiet up till now. “I know everybody there. We’re a tight-knit group. None of the Guardians would do something like this.”

“I agree,” Lily said.

“Was there anyone on the outside who knew about the bust?” Santiago asked. “Any support staff? Warehouse worker?”

Jackson scowled, thinking. “Not that I know of. Just the Guardians who were there. Could it have been a setup? You got the intel from a DB up here, right?”

Santiago nodded, remembering the guy with the Guardian blade. “I’ve thought about that already, but we had to torture him for the information. He wasn’t forthcoming.”

“Then it’s got to be a traitor,” Alfonso said. “Having been a double agent for years, I know how these things work. You build up trust and loyalty with your peers and when they think you’re one of them, you can get lots of information.”

“I don’t know, love,” Lily said. “I have to agree with Jackson. I can’t imagine anyone in the Seattle office who would be capable of that.”

Alfonso shook his head. “Would you think I was capable of such deception when I worked inside the Alliance?”

The silence in the conference room was heavy. No one could picture how Alfonso had lasted all those years inside without his cover being blown.

“How else do you explain it?” he continued. “Darkbloods knew that Dom and his team would show up. Sounds like an inside job to me.”

A traitor under his command? Santiago pounded his fist on the table, making the video monitor jump. “Then I’m going down there and talking to every goddamn person in that office. And when I find out who it is, I’m going to stake the bastard myself.”

“It could be a woman,” Lily said.

“Then I’ll stake the bitch.”

“Or a human,” Alfonso said. “I ran across several who worked for the Alliance who’d have done anything to be changed. Evil sycophants. That’s what my friend N—” He coughed, looking uncomfortable for a moment. Santiago knew the Agency had others working on the inside, doing just what Alfonso had done for decades. “That’s what I called them. They could be more cutthroat and brutal than Darkbloods themselves.”

Santiago gripped the edge of the table so hard that a piece of it broke off. He hurled it against the wall and heard the sound of glass breaking. “Then I’ll rip his…or her throat out.”

“An equal opportunity killing,” Jackson mumbled from across the table.

Alfonso leaned in close to the monitor. “If the person truly is a good enough liar to have fooled everyone, what makes you think you’ll be able to root him or her out? They’ll spook. They’ll see you coming a mile away and either take off or have their guard locked up so tight you’ll think they’re as trustworthy as your father.”

Bad analogy, Santiago thought. His father was as far from trustworthy as they got.

Lily cleared her throat. “Santiago, I’m afraid I have to agree with Alfonso. You’re not exactly subtle. Have you tried picking up the scent track from the warehouse? Maybe the trail will lead you back to the traitor.”

“Kip tried but came up with nothing.” Santiago picked at a wood splinter in his finger with his teeth. “It’s been raining solid since the explosion and all trace of any scent has been washed away.”

“What about Roxy?” Lily asked. “Have you asked her?”

Santiago froze. He didn’t need or want an outsider involved in an issue that should be handled as quietly as possible from within. Especially a critical outsider.

“No.”

“Why not? She’s the best tracker in the Agency. I learned everything I know from her. Besides, she’s really good at reading people. If the scent trail is gone, she might be able to figure out who in the office is behind this.”

“Take it from me,” Alfonso said, “having worked undercover for years, you get a nose for when people are poking around. If Roxy goes down there and starts asking questions, they’ll totally be onto her.”

“Yeah, that won’t work,” Lily said, shaking her head.

“Hell,” Jackson said, “what if you and Roxy pretend you’re lovers?”

Santiago’s head snapped up. “What the hell for?” It didn’t surprise him that Jackson would bring up the topic of sex. Before Arianna, there hadn’t been an attractive woman within miles of him that he hadn’t bedded or thought about bedding. At the clubs, they practically threw themselves at his feet. Sex was all the guy thought about.

“You know, Santiago,” Alfonso said, slowly, as if Jackson’s dumbass comment was for real, “that’s not a half-bad idea.”

Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

He rubbed his temples. He was seriously on the verge on one giant motherfucking headache.

Jackson jumped from his chair and rubbed his hands together gleefully, like a youthling preparing to do something naughty. “Think about it. The two of you could masquerade as a couple so that no one realizes she’s down there to scope things out. You could attend the regional awards gala and be all over each other. Dancing, kissing, slipping into one of the private salons for a little—” he made a kissing sound “—and no one would think anything of it.”