Fool's Gold (6 page)

“I find it hard to imagine that you ever need one.”

He laughed. “You'd be surprised. I won't lie to you; the life of an assassin isn't easy. Since you're just starting out, it's best to learn that early.”

My life hadn't ever been what anyone would consider easy, I thought. “How long have you been doing this?”

He shrugged. “About thirty years now.”

“Do you ever regret it? Becoming an assassin, I mean.”

He paused, as if weighing his response. “Sometimes. It's a lonely life. And I have to admit I don't always see eye to eye with the Dominae.” His words came out in a measured tone, each carefully chosen.

“I can see that, I guess. Have you ever killed someone and regretted it?”

He shifted in the seat. “Traffic's heavy tonight.”

And with that, the door slammed shut on our conversation. The shades were drawn. And the “do not disturb” sign flashed like neon in the dark car.

Jack's Hideaway squatted on the side of the freeway like a beggar. The sign featured flashing neon palm trees and advertised rooms by the hour.

“Charming place,” I observed as Slade pulled into the parking lot. The peeling turquoise doors opened directly onto the parking lot. The cars of choice for the discerning Hideaway patron seemed to be semi trailers and jalopies.

After making a circle of the building to make sure Zeke couldn't slip through a rear exit, Slade pulled into a parking space at the far end of the lot.

“Okay, his room's on the second floor,” Slade pointed to the door next to the metal stairwell.

“You think he's in there?”

Slade nodded. “My gut tells me yes. But I'm worried about the faery locked in there with him. Be prepared for anything.” He went into the back of the van and started filling his pockets with weapons. “I'll take point. You hang back. If he gets past me, put a bullet between his eyes. Got it?”

I nodded. My heart kicked up a notch. It was finally happening. My first kill.

The parking lot was deserted. Beyond the hush of traffic from the freeway, our movements up the stairs were muted. It wouldn't cover the sound of gunfire, though, so I'd made sure to slip on a silencer.

Slade took point on the left side of the door and I took the right, ready to get his back. Staying to the side, Slade knocked on the door.

“What?” a surly male voice called from inside. Zeke.

“Maintenance.”

“Fuck off.” The voice was closer now. A shadow passed over the peephole. Slade didn't bother responding. He kicked the door in, slamming it into Zeke's face. The pudgy vamp fell back with his hands over his nose, screaming blood murder.

With the vampire not blocking the door, I could finally see into the room. The bedspread and sheets had been kicked off to the floor. An overturned lamp lay drunkenly on the side table. A painting that presumably had once hung over the headboard was piled in the corner. The canvas was ripped and its frame splintered. I took all that in quickly, along with the lack of female.

“Where's Pansy Foxglove?” I demanded.

Zeke lay on the ground. His nose bled freely but his eyes burned with anger. “Who the fuck are you?”

Slade stepped over the threshold into the room. “We're your worst nightmare, asshole. Did you really think the Dominae wouldn't track you down?”

The vampire's rapidly swelling eyes widened. In the next heartbeat, he leapt off the ground and barreled past Slade. I braced myself, but the vampire's momentum knocked me off my feet. I fell on my ass just as he launched over the railing and took off across the parking lot.

“Fuck!” Slade yelled and took off after him. “Find the girl!” he shouted over his shoulder.

I scrambled to my feet with a few choice curses of my own. Looking for the girl would mean I might miss the big finale, but I also knew if that girl died, we'd have the faery madam's werewolf goon on our asses.

I ran into the room. “Pansy?” I called. A weak noise came from the direction of the bathroom. Like a lot of hotel rooms, the sink sat in a counter outside the bathroom proper. The rusty taps leaked brown water into the basin. I looked toward the door, which was closed, but no light came from underneath.

“Pansy?” I whispered, not wanting to scare the girl.

Another whimper, this time louder. I reached for the door handle and carefully pushed the panel. The door hit something solid and a responding screech sounded.

“Shit, sorry.” I peeked through the opening and froze.

A mass of wet hair and tears mixed with blood had been bound to the base of the toilet. She was gagged and naked.

“Great Mother protect us,” I breathed. Despite my disgust over the obvious abuse the girl had suffered, I marshaled my limbs into action. “I'll be right back,” I promised the girl.

I ran back into the other room and grabbed the comforter. This wasn't the kind of hotel that offered fluffy white robes to its guests, so the bedspread would have to do until I could locate her clothes.

Back in the bathroom, I carefully covered her with the spread. Her eyes were wide and haunted, and she shied away from the contact. “Shh,” I said. “I'm here to help you. My name is Sabina.”

She looked unsure but finally nodded. I reached up and pulled down the gag. She worked her jaw experimentally and earned a wince for the effort. She swallowed hard, as if to rewet a dry throat. “Jacques?” she croaked.

“My partner is handling him.”

She nodded and let out a shuddering breath. I waited a moment to make sure she wasn't about to lose her shit, but she stayed quiet. With a decisive nod, I took a look at mass of knots in the rope Zeke had used to tie her to the commode. Removing a knife from my boot, I raised it to cut through the rope.

“My boss doesn't know where I am,” Pansy whispered. “She'll be so angry with me.”

The last knot gave, releasing her hands. She raised them and began to rub against the rope burns on her wrists. I shook my head. “Liliana helped us find you. I promise she won't be angry with you.”

I knelt down and helped her stand. “Are you hurt anywhere critical?”

She shook her head. “I don't think so. He knocked me around some.” This statement was unnecessary. She had cuts on her jaw and cheekbones, but it had been the burns I'd noticed on her breasts and thighs that had me worried. As if she'd read my thoughts, she said, “He used a cigarette.” A shudder rushed through her small body. I pulled her closer and helped her through the door.

We were limping toward the bed when the door burst open again. Only, instead of Slade returning to say he'd killed Zeke, it was Liliana's werewolf, Rolf.

The girl cried out at the noise and her whole body shuddered, as if she'd been worried it was Zeke coming back for more. I looked down and realized she'd squeezed her eyes shut. “Pansy,” I said softly, “it's okay. It's just Rolf.”

Her eyes opened and she sagged against me. I helped her to the bed and lowered her to the edge. When I looked up again, Rolf was frozen in the doorway. If the rage on his face was anything to go by, he was having some problems processing what he was seeing.

I crossed my arms. “You said we had twenty-four hours.”

He dragged his gaze from the faery huddled on the bed to glare at me. “So sue me.” Dismissing me, he rushed across the room to kneel before Pansy. With a surprisingly gentle touch, he took the small hand lying on her lap. He looked down at the angry red wounds from the rope. “Pansy?” he whispered.

As if his gentleness was the final straw, she let out a wail and fell into the werewolf's arms. He wrapped his arms around her and cradled her small body in his lap. Something told me their relationship went beyond simple protector and prostitute. I looked away from the intimacy of the scene. “I'm going to go help Slade,” I said. But neither of them looked up. Knowing the girl was now in good hands, I spun on my heel and ran out the door.

On the balcony, I stopped to listen. My vampire hearing meant I could hear more than a mortal. I closed my eyes and blocked out the sounds of traffic from the freeway and the TVs coming out of the other rooms. Sure enough, the sound of fists against flesh reached me.

I jumped over the railing and shot across the parking lot.

Somewhere behind me, I heard a door slam, followed by the sound of high heels on pavement. A familiar female voice cursed loudly. I didn't look back, but I'd have bet cash money Mischa followed us to the hotel, hoping to cut in on the action.

I pumped my legs faster and turned down the alley between the hotel and the liquor store beside it. I came out the other end of the alley in time to see Slade and Zeke duking it out beside a Dumpster.

I paused. Why the hell was Slade bothering tussling with the vampire? He should have already killed the bastard. But even as I thought that, relief washed through me. I hadn't missed out on the kill, and judging from what I'd just left behind in the room, I definitely wanted to be part of the main event.

Up ahead, Zeke clasped his fists together and slammed them into the side of Slade's head. The assassin stumbled. Not far, but just enough for Zeke to jump on top of the Dumpster. Then he leaped up to grab the bottom of a fire escape ladder. Pulling it down, he scrambled up the ladder onto the platform. Then he pulled the ladder up behind him. From there, he climbed up a series of footholds to the building's roof.

“Slade?” I called.

Slade shook his head as if Zeke's strike had rung his bell pretty good. “Go around the front of the building in case he comes back down!”

I stopped, panting for breath. “Why me?”

“Really? You're going to argue now?” He looked over his shoulder at Mischa, who was running toward us in her five-inch heels.

“Fine, but if you reach him first, wait until I catch up.”

Slade nodded impatiently and jumped up on the Dumpster. “Go!”

I backtracked, zooming past Mischa in the alley without a second glance. I heard her skitter to a halt. “Where are you going?” She turned to follow me.

I ignored her and ran around to the front of the motel. A black Trans Am with a snarling wolf on the hood was peeling out of the parking lot. Guess that meant Rolf had decided to get Pansy out of there rather than wait for us. Fine by me. The girl needed medical attention, and the less bodies around, the better.

The lobby was deserted, thank the gods. My boots clomped across the linoleum toward the stairs. The door opened behind me and Mischa's heels joined my boots in echoing off the walls.

“Sabina,” she whisper-yelled. “What's going on?”

I needed to ditch her before she got in the way. Skidding to a halt, I turned. “Mischa, thank the goddess you're here. Zeke's on his way out the front door,” I lied. “You stay here and bag him when he comes your way.”

She narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out if she could trust me. “Where are you going?”

I heaved a big sigh. “You don't want to help, fine. But you can explain to the Dominae why you let him go after he escapes again.”

She lifted her chin. “All right, but if I bag him, I'm not splitting the money with you.”

“Whatever. Just stay there and make sure he doesn't get away.”

Without waiting for a response, I turned and ran up the stairs toward the roof. At the top, I burst through the metal door. Male grunts echoed across the barren landscape. Adrenaline surged. I rounded the corner to see Slade and Zeke knocking the shit out of each other.

As I rushed toward them, I was surprised that Slade was having so much trouble. Sure, he'd promised to wait for me to get there for the kill, but I hadn't expected him to follow through on it. Every assassin knows when you get an opening to finish the job, you take it. But Slade didn't even have a stake in his hand. Zeke was fighting, but he was also winded and scared. Slade should have had the advantage hands down.

I pulled my gun from my waistband and advanced. Slade pushed Zeke back against the low wall surrounding the roof. Slade knew I was there, because next thing I knew, he yelled, “Shoot him!”

Normally, I wouldn't have hesitated, but my hands shook and sweaty palms made my grip slippery. I didn't want to risk missing and clipping Slade by mistake. “Move!”

When Slade looked over his shoulder at me, Zeke clocked him on the side of the head and took off running again. My partner swept his feet under Zeke's legs, knocking the fat bastard to the ground. Then Slade jumped over and grabbed the gun from my hands. He spun and took a shot.

The bullet whizzed by a good foot from Zeke's head. He lurched off the ground and rammed his good shoulder into Slade. The assassin cursed and fell on his ass. Zeke loomed over him, but Slade still had the gun.

Now
, I thought,
now he'll get him.

Slade pulled the trigger. The bullet went wide again and lodged itself in an HVAC unit. My mouth dropped open; shocked he could miss such an easy shot.

Zeke, spurred on by adrenaline, ran toward the door—and me. Driven by pain and fear, he barreled right toward me. I bent my knees and pulled my spare gun from my waistband.

For one second, Zeke's face was a mask of rage barreling toward me. Then time slowed, and the gun in my slippery grip exploded. Blood burst from Zeke's right eye socket. His body jerked back, his arms going wide in forced surrender. He ignited before his body hit the rooftop.

I stood still for a moment as the shock of what I'd done soaked in. “I did it,” I whispered. “I finally did it.”

Slade groaned on the ground nearby. I walked over and gave him a hand up. “You okay?” I asked.

He nodded. “Sorry 'bout that,” Slade said, motioning vaguely. “It's been a while since I shot a gun.”

“No problem,” I said, somewhat shakily. “At least we got him.”

“You did good,” he said. He gently pulled the gun from my steely grip. “You did real good.”