Allegiance (The Penton Vampire Legacy) (27 page)

The sedan arrived from behind and came to a fast stop, and Aidan reached over to open the passenger door. “In!”

Cage dived for the seat, pulling the door closed after Aidan had already begun to drive.

“You all right?” He didn’t see any bullet holes or blood, but the driver’s side backseat window was broken.

“Yeah, I saw the shooter in time to speed up—they played us on that one.”

Cage had come to the same conclusion. Greisser’s hitmen must have been briefed on everyone in Penton who might show up, figuring Aidan wouldn’t go in first but would be nearby.

“What’s next?”

“Get the hell out of Atlanta, first. Then we’ll regroup.”

Cage’s heart slowly returned to its normal rhythm, and his muscles felt heavy after releasing their adrenaline. “Take a back route from town. Stay off I-85 as long as you can.”

Aidan drove awhile in silence, but Cage could tell he was fuming.

Finally, he blew. “What kind of sick freak bombs a hotel full of innocent people just to coerce me into an ambush? Does he think I’m a fucking idiot?”

“No, he thinks you’re a decent man, and to guys like him, decent equals weak. Please don’t tell me you’re going.”

“Hell no.” Aidan drove through a less-than-savory area of the city.

Ironic if they escaped the big bad vampire and got offed by a street gang. “Good, because otherwise I’d be forced to bash you over the head, and you know I don’t drive.”

Aidan tried to smile but failed. “Frank won’t waste too much time. He’ll probably set off another bomb, but the authorities might find it before it detonates. Once I don’t show, he won’t bother with another one. He’ll probably set up one of his flunkies as the bomber, so the case will be closed.”

Cage nodded. “And then the guy will die in a jail-cell brawl or from a sudden suicide.”

They drove in silence until they got to a major road that would take them back to the interstate.

“I want you to drive for a while.” Aidan pulled off in a fast-food parking lot and put the car in park.

“Uh, no, you really don’t. I haven’t driven a car since a full tank of petrol cost twenty pence.” Okay, call him a chicken. But automobiles had changed a lot, and it was dark.

“We need to get back to Penton now, and I also need to make some calls. I particularly want to check on Edward’s people, tell them to lay low and stay hidden until we can regroup or at least decide what to do.”

At the mention of Edward, Cage grumbled and opened the car door. Low blow. How could he refuse to drive a fucking car when the whole world was coming down on their heads?

“Fine, but don’t blame me if we end up in a lake or something.”

Aidan guided him through the complexities of gear shifting, which he was relieved to see amounted basically to forward and backward and stopping and accelerating. Once he got the feel for it, it was rather exhilarating.

“We’re on the interstate now, Cage. You can go faster than forty miles an hour.”

Right. He watched, fascinated, as the speedometer rose to fifty, then sixty. This was bloody amazing. Seventy.

“That’s probably fast enough, hotshot.”

“Right.” He dropped it to sixty-five and kept it there while Aidan first called Krys to reassure her that he was alive and headed home.

Cage wondered what Robin would do if he called her. He suspected she would say something to the tune of, “Why are you bothering me?” Which would be quite the letdown after hearing Aidan’s soft reassurances and promises.

He ended the call. “Krys says Robin has called her at least six times since we left, asking about you. Didn’t ask about me at all.”

It was dark in the car, but Cage could tell Aidan was smiling. So was he. What a sap.

Another ninety minutes or so, and they should be home.

Home was Penton. Home, he realized with some surprise, also was Robin.

“Hey.” Aidan leaned forward. “Slow down. What’s that?”

Cage eased his foot off the accelerator, letting the car coast a few feet before cautiously putting his foot on the brake. He’d been doing so well at driving; he refused to skid out at the sight of a little orange dunce cap or two in the road.

“I don’t like this—there’s no construction visible.” Aidan’s voice was tense. “Floor it. Go as fast as you can and let’s get past it.”

“Right.” Cage pressed his foot on the accelerator and as soon as the car started rolling, he stomped the pedal. The back end of the car skidded a bit, the tires squealed, but by God they were—

A white light flashed from the side of the road. Before Cage could register what it might be, flying blood and glass filled the air around him. The world turned in a rapid roll.

The world fell to black.

  
CHAPTER 32
  

M
atthias checked his watch for the fourth time in ten minutes. He’d gotten the call at Frank’s safe house at half past 9:00 p.m. and had been sitting on the side of the interstate ever since.

The plan was so simple it was brilliant. A few orange construction cones in the roadway, moved from a site several miles back. Murphy would slow down, Matthias would take aim, and—boom—no more Penton. With Murphy dead, they’d scatter like rats. If Matthias was lucky, he’d be able to take out Cage Reynolds as well.

In fact, he might shoot Reynolds first. Murphy would lose control of the car, and Matthias would be able to make him suffer. Die more slowly. Pay for the humiliation of taking William away from his father. Pay for taking Matthias’s life away from him.

It was off script, but he liked it. The Austrian megalomaniac would never know the difference, and by God, Matthias deserved a reward after what Frank Greisser had put him through.

All he had to do was wait for a dark-blue sedan.

  
CHAPTER 33
  

R
obin slipped her phone back in her pocket and ran to catch up with Mirren. Damn, but that vampire could cover some ground with those long legs.

“Cage is fine. That was Krys, and they’re on their way back.”

Mirren looked at her and squinted. “So I have to assume Aidan’s fine as well? Or did you ask about him? You didn’t the other five times you called her.”

Robin’s face heated, and she was thankful it was dark so he wouldn’t see her all red and embarrassed. She might have called six times, but who was counting?

“I don’t have to see you blush. I can smell it when the blood gets that close to the surface of your skin.”

“Ewwwww.” Jeez, but vampires were creepy sons of bitches. “Do you want to know what happened, or do you want to keep grossing me out?”

“Talk.”

Monosyllabic ass. They’d been sneaking around Penton for the past four hours on little eagle feet, and Mirren wasn’t the best conversationalist. He sucked at it, in fact. And when he told her she talked “even more than Gloriana but not as interesting,” she’d talked more just to spite him.

Not that it had been completely boring. They’d run across two vampabonds—she liked that word—coming into town. Neither of them put up much of a fuss; once they got a look at the not-so-gentle giant, they moved along quickly enough.

“Wait.”

She stopped and looked around. They were in downtown Penton, or what was left of it, near the Baptist church. Nik had told her that the original entrance to the Omega underground hiding place lay in the floor of the church sanctuary, and that Matthias had thrown a grenade down it.

She hoped she’d get the chance to meet that vampire one day. He was an abuser of the first order, by all accounts, and she hated nothing worse than a bully. They were cowards with big sticks, nothing more.

A flash of white moved behind the church building, and she tapped Mirren’s arm and pointed. He nodded, and they set out toward it. Cage would’ve split the direction with her; Mirren just plowed ahead and expected her to follow. As she trailed the grump, she reflected on the way Cage had treated her the night they caught Shawn. He had trusted her to carry her weight, just as she’d trusted him to follow Shawn while she tended to Nik. Somehow, they’d expanded their repertoire to include respect. Which, in the long run, probably lasted longer than lust. Not that they’d run out of that by any means. The man was still going to feed from her.

Mirren cleared the back corner of the church and kept going, slowing only when two guys stepped out of the shadow of the hardware-store alley. They weren’t thin. In fact, she couldn’t be positive, but she didn’t think they were even vampires.

“You assholes better head north and keep going.”

Nice, Mirren. Make friends first.
“You’re shifters,” she said. “What kind?”

The one nearest her frowned, but the other guy—a tall blond—looked surprised. “What are
you
?”

His shorter, darker companion gave her an uncomfortably thorough once-over. “Gotta be a shrimp. Popcorn shrimp at that.”

“Funny.” She’d claw their eyes out with her shrimplike talons. “Who’re you working for?”

“That would be me, love.”

She got only half-turned before the heat of a silver blade pressed against her throat. “Hiya, Fen Patrick. Funny, we’ve been looking for you.”

She hoped Mirren was in a fighting mood, because she couldn’t do a lot unless she got free of the silver blade.

Mirren seemed to have his hands full, though. He’d broken Blondie’s arm with one good crack; he was wailing and rolling around on the ground like a baby. Brownie had a gun.

She was on her own. “So, Fen. How does it feel being one of the vampire science experiments? How’s that walking in sunlight thing working out for you?” The knife pressed harder, but she’d heard his intake of breath, felt his heart jackhammer up. “Eaten any good meals lately, big cat?”

“Who the fuck talked?” He released his grasp just enough for her to drop down and wriggle free.

“Your partner.” An image of Britta Eriksen flashed through her mind. She hadn’t seen her hanging, but she’d seen that bloody wooden X, and it still pissed her off. “Tell me this—why did you kill Britta?”

She wasn’t dead, of course, but it might surprise him enough to talk. “The bitch followed me and saw me shift.” He took a step closer. “I might not be able to eat like a human anymore, but I do still enjoy the taste of raw meat. You’re scrawny, but it might be fun to gnaw on Cage Reynolds’s leftovers.”

Okay, that was it. She’d had enough of fun banter with the frankendouche.

“Well, you might as well start here.” She monitored Mirren’s standoff with Brownie, who’d lost his gun and shifted into some kind of smaller cat with tufted ears. The big guy was having trouble shooting him while he was riding around on Mirren’s back, hanging on by his claws. That looked well in hand.

Robin grasped the hem of her sweater and tugged it off, shivering slightly as the cool air hit her bare breasts and pebbled her nipples.

Fen’s gaze dropped, and his grip on the knife loosened. Stupid, predictable boy.

She moved slowly to unbutton her borrowed, rolled-up jeans, sensing his skin heating. He licked his lips, which was totally gross. And now the coup de grace—her shaved surprise.

His intake of breath was audible. “I always said Reynolds had good taste.”

Yeah, well, Fen would never taste anything of hers. He moved closer but not fast enough.

“Let me give you a better view,” she said, putting a little purr in her voice as she climbed atop a Dumpster at the edge of the alley. She could shift from the ground, but this would be easier.

She spread her legs for his approving view. Arms raised, she closed her eyes, felt the breeze, and leapt, shifting midair.

“Fucking bird.”

She sank long, golden talons into his shoulder, and before he could shake her off, used the sharp, downward-curved end of her beak to tear open a gash in his head. When he stabbed at her with the silver, she had to fly, soaring into the colder air above, circling, watching to see where she was most needed.

Mirren’s big-ass gun echoed through downtown, and Robin circled again. The little kitty was down, and if she knew her vampire, he had silver bullets.

Blondie had crawled off somewhere to mend his broken arm, and Fen seemed to have come to the same conclusion about the bullets. He shifted, and his big cat was a dark blur that raced out the back of the alley and toward the woods north of town.

She circled again and prepared to follow, but Mirren had sat down on the pavement, clutching his head. What was up with that?

Robin settled to the ground and took a few steps toward him. She’d make sure he was all right, then she’d hunt down Fen like the prey he was.

Mirren rolled to his side, gasping for breath, so Robin shifted back. “What’s wrong? Where are you hurt?”

She slipped back into her sweater and pants and ran to him, looking for any sign of injury. Damn it, she didn’t see anything.

“Mirren, talk to me. Where are you hurt?”

He groaned and rolled to his back, and Robin heard music. She didn’t think choirs of heavenly angels sang country music, so she patted around on his pockets and finally dug out his cell phone. Krys, thank God.

“Something’s wrong with Mirren.” She waited for Krys to say something. “Krys?”

“Robin? It’s Nik. Something’s wrong with Krys, too, and Glory. Where are you?”

She filled him in as quickly as possible. “He’s rolling around on the ground.”

“Bring him to Aidan’s house now. Glory says . . . never mind, it’s too complicated. Can you get him here?”

She looked down at the biggest man she’d ever seen in her life. She bet he weighed four-hundred pounds. “I’ll get him there.”

At least she finally knew her physical limits, and they cut off somewhere short of Mirren Kincaid. She tried lifting him, pulling his arm over her shoulders and hefting him to his feet, and even a poor attempt at a fireman’s carry.

Finally, she slapped the shit out of him. It seemed to bring him around a little. “You are going to get up, and you are going to walk—do you hear me? Glory is sick. Glory needs you.”

If Mirren had a weakness, it was his wife, or mate, or whatever they called themselves.

Her ploy worked. It took a few false starts, but he managed to roll to his knees and then, with her help, rise to his feet. “Come on.” She helped as best she could, but given their size difference, it wasn’t much. The trip took forever, and her role mostly consisted of tilting him to the right when he began listing left and pushing him to the left when he veered right.

Finally, Aidan’s house was in sight, and as soon as he saw them, Nik came limping out to help.

“Careful or you’ll open up all your cuts again; he’s a moose,” she panted. “What’s going on?”

They slowly maneuvered Mirren inside and let him collapse on the sofa. Glory sat cross-legged on the floor, crying. Krys . . . “What happened to Krys?”

At first Robin thought she was dead, but then she had a seizure of some kind. “Nik, what’s going on?”

He sat on the floor next to Krys and smoothed back her hair. “I’m not sure. It has something to do with the vampire bonds.”

Glory had managed to climb on the sofa, and although her face was tight with pain, she had Mirren’s head in her lap, stroking his forehead, his cheeks. She looked up. “Everyone in Penton is bonded to Aidan or Mirren, and Mirren’s bonded to Aidan. The tie of a bond-mate is closest of all. They share strength. One is hurt and pulls strength from another in order to live.”

Robin closed her eyes and prayed for the patience she rarely had. “Speak English, for God’s sake. What does she mean?”

Nik apparently understood vampire crap better than she did. “It means Aidan is hurt, and he’s unconsciously pulling strength from all of them. I’ve got a splitting headache, too, but I don’t think I’ve been bonded long enough.”

“Hurt how? Hurt how badly?”

Nik looked down at Krys, who trembled with an occasional spasm but had fallen still otherwise. Her breathing was shallow. “I think he might be dying.”

Robin’s heart froze, and fear skittered up her spin.
Where was Cage?