Flameout (15 page)

“But why send both of you? Isn't that risky?”

Especially if she
was
Luke's source. But if she was, at least neither she nor Luke would learn much from this event, as we'd achieved nothing more than pissing off a couple of rats.

“Everything is a risk at the moment, but on the scale of such things, interviewing the two of you is at the lower end.” He tapped the table. “Sit down, Em. I have no desire to strain my neck looking up at you.”

It was politely said, but annoyance wasn't far away. I pulled the chair away from the table and sat down.

“Did you find anything at Wilson's?”

“Not in the house. The rats interrupted us before we could check the outbuildings.” I hesitated, my gaze scanning him. The darkness that was the virus seemed to be little more than a vague stain around
the edges of his energy output, and his skin seemed warmer than it had in the cemetery. I frowned. “What have you done?”

He blinked. “What?”

“There's something different about you.”

His expression closed over. “We're not here to discuss me.”

“I know, but—”

“I can very easily hand you back to the cops, Emberly,” he said, voice cool. “Just answer my questions and don't deviate.”

Because you never know who is watching or listening.
He didn't say the words, but they nevertheless seemed to hang in the air. And it was a good point, because if neither he nor Rochelle was the leak at PIT, someone else was. And if Luke could get his people in PIT, he could get them anywhere.

“Fine,” I muttered. “What else do you want to know?”

Amusement briefly flirted with the corners of his mouth and eyes, and my heart did its usual happy dance. I ignored it.

But he
didn't
.

His pupils dilated fractionally and, just for an instant, hunger flared bright in his gaze.

And suddenly the puzzle pieces fell into place. He'd told me, when I'd commented about the retreat of the darkness earlier, that he'd given in to the inevitable. He'd refused to explain what that meant, but given his reaction to the rise in my heart rate, it wasn't hard to guess. The virus turned humanity into pseudo vampires. Sam was drinking blood to control it.

I swallowed heavily, not sure whether the sinking in my gut was sorrow or anger.

But before I could say anything, he said, “Don't. Not here.”

His voice was grim, cold, and his face set. But something flared briefly in his eyes. Something that wasn't the darkness or any sort of bloodlust. Something I'd glimpsed on several occasions now, and, each time, it had chilled me to the core.

That something was utter desolation.

He saw no hope for himself. He was just doing whatever it took to keep on surviving so that he could find and kill his brother before the virus took him over.

Without thinking, I reached across the table and wrapped my hand around his. “Sam—”

His muscles twitched, as if he was tempted to turn his hand around and twine his fingers through mine. But he didn't. Instead, he pulled away and leaned back in the chair. “What did you hope to achieve at Wilson's place? You know we've already searched it.”

I curled my fingers, trying to hang on to the heat of his skin that lingered on my hand, even if only for a few seconds more. “Nothing. But Rosen's company is paying us to be thorough, and that, by necessity, meant double-checking Rosen's place.”

“So they're still keeping you on the case even though Rosen is dead?”

“Well, they haven't told us not to search, so we'll keep doing it until otherwise informed.” I paused. “Are you sure he's actually dead?”

Sam hesitated. “We're running blood tests, but there was no sign of anything to suggest he'd turn.”

Yeah, but they'd thought that about Baltimore, too. “You're keeping an eye on his body, just in case?”

“Yes. We do not make a mistake more than once, trust me.”

I raised an eyebrow, amusement lurking around my lips. “Is that an admission that PIT actually does make mistakes?”

He half smiled. Though it didn't quite touch his eyes, it nevertheless warmed my heart. “Of course. No one is perfect.”

“And yet you expected me to be.” It came before I could stop it, and I silently cursed. It was a stupid thing to say when we were over and done, but moving on was damnably hard when fate kept throwing this man in my path.

He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. We both knew it was honesty, not perfection, that had been the problem.

“Sorry,” I said quietly. “That was uncalled-for.”

He didn't acknowledge that, either. “Tell me what happened with the rats.”

I shrugged. “We'd just finished searching the house when the bastards started shooting at us. While one of them kept us pinned down, the others busted through the doors to finish us off. Unluckily for them, we were quite unimpressed with that idea.”

“The neighbors reported seeing a man leaving just before the ambulance arrived. Did you let one go?”

I nodded. “We don't need Radcliffe sending more men after us.”

“You should have thought of that before you busted up his café and his men.”

“Yeah, well, they did attack first.”

“That seems to be something of a theme with you two.”

“And it's one I can do without.” It wasn't as if I liked being beaten up and shot at. It just seemed to be my lot in this lifetime—recently, at least. “There's really not much more I can add. You must have known that coming in.”

“We did.”

“Then, to repeat an earlier question, why are you here? Couldn't you have just rung the police and gotten them to release us?”

“We could have.”

There was something in the way he said that that had the hair at the back of my neck rising. “So why didn't you?”

“Because my boss wanted me to put a proposition to you.”

“And I'm guessing it's something we're not going to like.”

He smiled, but it certainly didn't warm his expression or wipe the coolness from his eyes. “If you're going to use PIT as an escape clause, then you will do so legally.”

“
That
statement makes no sense,” I said, even as my stomach sank. I wasn't stupid. I knew what was coming.

“You have two options,” he said, with very little emotion in his voice. And yet I had the sudden impression that he didn't agree with what he'd been sent here to do. “You can quit the case now—”

“We can't do that,” I cut in. “And you know it. Besides,
neither the vamps nor Luke would leave us alone even if we did.”

“Or,” he continued, ignoring me, “you work for us on an associate level.”

Chills raced across my skin, even though the room was far from cold. A recognition of fate, perhaps? Or just fear? “No.”

He raised an eyebrow. “No, you won't work with us? No, you'd rather spend time in jail?”

“It's no, I don't want to be blackmailed again . . .”

I cut it off, but it was already too late.

He leaned forward abruptly. “Again?”

I took a deep breath and blew it out in frustration. In for a penny, in for a pound, I guessed. “The man I know as Heaton found me.”

“Indeed? What did he want? Information?”

“He wants Wilson's notes, just like everyone damn else.” I paused. “You know he met with Rosen before all this went down, don't you? He wanted the inversion device Rosen's company is working on.”

Sam frowned. “How the hell did he find out about that? That's top level and very secure.”

I snorted. “Obviously not. Rosen apparently rejected the offer, and Heaton was very displeased.”

“Rosen walked away from the meeting, so Heaton couldn't have been
that
displeased.” He paused. “Although Rosen is now dead, so it's always—”

“Heaton didn't kill Rosen.”

His gaze sharpened. “Why would you think that?”

“Because he came in
after
Rosen was dumped in our office and examined him. He didn't look all that happy.”

“Is that what you erased off the tape?”

“Yes.” And that wasn't all—we'd also erased both us and Heaton or Rinaldo or whatever the fuck his real name was reading the note that had been left in Rosen's hand.

“Why?” Sam asked. “Was he already blackmailing you then?”

I hesitated, Rinaldo's warning ringing in the back of my mind. But I guessed it was too late to stop. All I could hope was that he hadn't been in the state long enough to have cultivated a source in the police department—though I'm sure the sindicati probably had them.

“No, not then. He confronted us later.”

“When you were searching Rosen's place?”

“So we
are
being tailed.”

He snorted softly. “No. We saw you on the floor's security cams. I'm gathering, given the foyer systems went down for fifteen minutes, that that's when it happened?”

I nodded and told him what Rinaldo had wanted, and what he'd threatened. “Is there anything PIT can do about him?”

“Legally, no. He hasn't done anything to warrant action from us as yet.”

I raised my eyebrows. “What about the raids on Radcliffe's gaming venues?”

“You are better informed than we thought.”

Which
wasn't
a compliment, if his expression was anything to go by. “It pays to be in our current situation. And you didn't answer the question.”

“The raids have no direct link back to Heaton—”

“How can you say that when Rinaldo was apparently seen at the crime?”

“Says what source? Because we certainly get that information out of the rats.”

I guessed
that
wasn't surprising. The rats had never been overly keen on cops no matter what division they belonged to. “The wolves told us.”

“Indeed?” He sounded more than a little peeved by that, but I guess being behind on the information train would be annoying. “Heaton's done nothing so far to warrant PIT intervention; until we get someone to tell us otherwise or catch him in the act, there is little we can do.”

“So you know where he's staying?”

“No, we do not. And
you
didn't actually answer the question on the table.”

“I'm not becoming a PIT employee.”

“I'm not asking you to.”

And didn't want me to, I suspected. “Then what are you asking?”

“As I said, you become associates—you get the security of PIT's name at a legal level, and we get all information you find relating to Wilson and Baltimore's research.”

Exactly what Rinaldo wanted, in other words. And while I doubted PIT would use the threat to kill someone if I didn't comply with their wishes, there'd still be a nasty sting in the tail somewhere.

“How do you know you can trust us to hand over any information?”

“We don't.”

“Then why even bother placing the offer on the table?”

“Because,” he said heavily, “if you and Jackson continue down your current path, you'll end up either imprisoned or dead. And no matter what I might think of your actions in the past, or how little I actually want you working with us at
any
level, I also have no desire to find your broken body somewhere.”

He wouldn't, because my body reverted to energy on death. But it was nice to know that no matter how much he might hate what I'd done to our relationship, he still wanted me alive just as much as I did him.

“How long have you and PIT been planning this all of this?”

He glanced at his watch, a trace of amusement touching his lips. “A couple of hours, if that.”

“So it was my phone call that gave you lot this whole associate idea in the first place?”

“My boss had broached the subject previously, but your call reaffirmed the idea.”

“Why don't you agree with the idea?”

“Because while we do have other associates currently working with us, I can't see any continuing value in having you on the team.”

“And the fact you and I had a broken relationship in our past has very little to do with it.”

“Very little.”

Anyone else might have believed that statement. I didn't. “What happens if we decline the offer?”

“You quit the investigation, as I said.”

“You can't force us to do that.”

“Oh,” he said softly. “Yes, we can.”

I stared at him for several seconds, chills running down my spine. It wasn't so much what he said, or even the way he said it, but rather the rise of the darkness. It wrapped around him like a cloak, staining his blood-borrowed warmth and briefly making him appear as cold and as alien as some of the very ancient vampires.

He'd only been infected for a year, and it had changed him so much already. What the hell would it do to him with more time?

I rubbed my arms lightly. “Even PIT can't lock us up and throw away the key, Sam. There's laws against—”

“PIT isn't bound to the laws of the land when it comes to national security. This investigation falls into that sphere.” He leaned forward, his arms crossed and something close to pity briefly gleaming in his bright eyes. His scent wrapped around me and would have been enticing had it not been so thick with darkness. “There is only one choice here, Em. And if you don't abide by the rules that come with that choice, then you face the consequences.”

I leaned back in the chair and dragged in a shuddery breath. “Damn it, this is unfair
and
unjust—”

“Life is unfair. Deal with it.”

“Life has nothing to do with it,” I bit back. “This is simply an organization being overly heavy-handed.”

“This is
not
heavy-handed. But that might yet come, never fear.”