I’ll Be Slaying You Page 8

  “Why didn’t they kill me?” Dee asked as the first rays of dawn began to appear on the horizon.

  Dawn. Her favorite time. She loved it when the light kicked night’s ass across the sky.

  Simon sat next to her. They were on his back porch. Small, compact. Two old rocking chairs that reminded her too much of her past.

  At her question, he turned to her and his eyes seemed shuttered. “Why do you think you’re still breathing?”

  “Don’t know.” She wouldn’t have asked the question if she knew. What was this, some kind of Freud crap? “They’re setting me up, and—”

  Her pocket vibrated. No, her phone. She’d jerked on her jeans earlier, knotted Simon’s shirt at her waist, and tried to feel normal. She’d even found her phone, checked the battery, and thought about calling Pak.

  She’d also realized that if the vamps were truly setting her up, he might be ass-deep in cops. So she’d waited.

  Protocol for an agent in trouble was to wait, stay low for twenty-four hours, then seek contact.

  Unless a superior from Night Watch contacted first.

  She pulled out her phone. Punched the buttons until she saw her text, then her breath whistled out. “Damn.”

  Simon rose. “Trouble?”

  Of course. Like good tidings followed her. Dee licked her lips and glanced up at him. “Can I…” Yeah, his gaze had definitely heated with the swipe of her tongue. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch. “Can I stay with you? Just for a day or two?”

  His gaze was still on her mouth. “I already said you could. Stay as long as you want.” The words were a dark rumble.

  Oh, they would so be getting into bed soon. Her head was better now. The swelling had eased. No more black spots danced before her eyes.

  Simon had pushed for a visit to the hospital, but she hadn’t wanted to risk that.

  Vamps loved hanging out in hospitals. Talk about free and easy access to a blood supply.

  If she’d had double vision, if she’d passed out, if she’d vomited on Simon’s sexy self, then, yeah, she would have found a doctor.

  But it looked like she’d pull through.

  And that she’d get to jump Simon soon.

  “You keep saving me,” she told him. Weird. Usually, she did the saving. The protecting. She wasn’t quite sure how to act with him. But twice, twice, he’d saved her butt from the flames.

  “You’ll do the same for me.” Absolute certainty.

  Her eyes narrowed. That phrasing…it was off. Not, you’d do the same, but you’ll do. She forced a laugh. “Don’t worry. I always pay my debts. In fact, I—”

  He caught her arms. “We need to go inside.”

  His hold seemed too tight. “Uh, okay.”

  Simon’s lips thinned. “I’m…sorry. I’m tired. Hell of a night, you know?”

  Oh, yes, she did.

  He eased his grip.

  And Dee realized he looked tired. There was an edge of darkness under his eyes. The faint lines near his mouth had hardened.

  Only fair, considering I probably look like warm hell.

  She followed Simon inside. He bolted the back door, rolled his shoulders. Then he asked, voice distracted, “You want some food?”

  She’d already had a shower, and sure, food sounded real good right then “Yes, why not?”

  His head shot up and his gaze zeroed in on the front door. “Fuck.”

  An icy stillness settled over her. “Uh, Simon?”

  “Company.”

  Understanding hit hard. “And here we are without a welcome mat out.” Weapon. Simon had to—

  The windows exploded. Glass shattered, raining into the room as bullets ripped through the panes.

  Shards hit her, cutting deep, and the rapid fire thunder of the guns echoed in her ears.

  Sonofabitch.

  Dee hit the floor just as the wooden front door burst apart. Bits of wood flew across the room, some biting into her flesh, some scraping the skin right off.

  She crawled behind the couch. Pitiful cover, but it was better than nothing. Simon inched toward her. A long trickle of blood ran down the side of his face.

  Dee sucked in a quick breath. Whoever was firing—the bastards were sure doing a fine job of shooting up the place.

  Where was her gun? Back in that blood-soaked room? Perfect time to be unarmed.

  Simon grabbed her shoulder. “We’ve got to run for it,” he whispered.

  That didn’t seem like the best option, but then, sitting there and waiting for the assholes with guns to come and shoot her right in the face didn’t seem like such a fine plan, either.

  He pointed to the right, to a closed door. “Garage,” he mouthed.

  Five feet away. Maybe six. But where were the shooters? Still outside? Or working their way in?

  The faint groan of wood reached her ears. The porch was wooden. Old, faded wood. Fuck. Their attackers were getting too close.

  “Go!” Simon heaved her up, moving at the same time to cover her back. Dee lunged for the door. How had they found them so quickly? How had—

  Bam. Bam.

  One bullet cut right across her shoulder. Sonofabitch.

  Using her left hand, she jerked open the door.

  Simon hit a button on the wall even as he fell into her. They tumbled down three steps, hit the concrete, hard, and staggered up in a tangle of limbs and curses.

  The Mustang waited. Black coat gleaming. Dee jumped into the passenger seat even as more bullets flew. Simon took the wheel.

  The garage door was opening—must have been a door control that he hit before—

  “Here.” He dug under the seat. “Get those bastards off our backs.”

  A gun. A sweet, black Beretta that fit perfectly in her hands.

  Two assholes in black appeared, heading down the steps into the garage. Ski masks covered their faces and their guns were up.

  Simon jerked the gear shift into reverse. Dee hoped the garage door was open enough.

  Bullets plowed into the windshield. One. Two.

  Dee shot right back. The bullet hit the guy high in the shoulder. Not a flesh wound, a deep thud of bullet into muscle and bone. And so down went one jerk in black. The other dove for cover.

  “Fuck! Behind us!”

  She spun around. Two more men, revealed now by the opening in the garage. Guns up. Since when did vamps hunt in the daytime? And wear ski masks?

  “Hold on,” he growled and the car flew backward even faster.

  Because he was aiming right for the men.

  They jumped away at the last second, flying to the overgrown side of the road before the Mustang rammed them.

  Simon shifted quickly. The Mustang snarled forward, horses pounding away.

  Dee stared back at the men. Not giving chase. Not yet. Too busy picking their beaten butts up off the ground.

  And the way Simon was driving…hell, no, they wouldn’t be following them anytime soon.

  The Mustang was easily pushing one hundred on the long, empty stretch of road.

  Dee took a deep breath. The first she’d had since she’d risen from her cover in his den. Her shoulder burned like a bitch. Carefully, she unlocked her white knuckled grip and clicked on the gun’s safety before she put in on the floor-board.

  Wincing, she touched the wound. Okay. A lot of blood, but the bullet hadn’t gone in the shoulder, just grazed her. No big damage. She’d keep living.

  Dee eyed Simon. “Are you hit?”

  He growled at her. Seriously, growled.

  Dee reached for him. “Simon?”

  His head jerked toward her. “Back off.” His teeth snapped together.

  What? Her hand hovered in the air between them.

  He shook his head even as his knuckles whitened around the wheel. “Don’t touch me now.”

  Her fingers fisted, then fell. “I-I didn’t think someone would come after me.” Not so quickly. But, hell, she should have known. Someone could have easily followed her and Simon from that
death pit.

  And that someone had wrecked his house. Nearly killed him.

  Yeah, because all that will put a smile on a guy’s face. No wonder he was growling at her. She’d just brought her usual death and danger into the guy’s life.

  “You didn’t ask for this,” she said, even as she glanced back to make sure they still weren’t being followed. This time, she was alert enough to spot a tail. Being unconscious had really slowed down her game before. “I-I’ll contact Zane at the first safe stop. Get him to come for me and—”

  “The hell you will.” Guttural, but without the dark fury of before.

  “Dammit, don’t you see what being with me is doing to you?” He had to see it. “Those bastards were after me, Simon, they wanted—”

  “Fuck what they wanted.” He spared her a burning glance. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  What?

  He shifted in his seat, flinching a bit. “And those weren’t vampires, babe. Since when do vamps hunt in the daylight? And use guns on prey?”

  Hardly ever. Vamps didn’t explode in the sunlight. That was just some BS myth Hollywood had invented. Good old Bram had been right when he’d said that vampires could walk in the daylight. They were just weaker in the hours of light—human weak. Dee had always figured Bram must’ve had the inside track on the vamps.

  As for using guns…why shoot your prey? For vampires, that was just a waste of good blood. Dee swallowed. “Why would vamps send humans after me?”

  “After us.”

  Her eyes narrowed. Sweat beaded Simon’s upper brow.

  “They know I’m helping you,” he muttered. “Now they’re trying to shut us both down. Not. Gonna. Happen.”

  The car jerked a bit. “Simon?”

  He shook his head. “All…right.” His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, but his eyes began to drift shut.

  “No, you’re not.” Her heart slammed into her ribs. “You’re hit, aren’t you?” Don’t touch me now. Gruff and angry. Had to be man slang for I’m hurting. “Stop the car, let me see what—”

  “No! Won’t…let them…take you…”

  Uh, being all macho and protective was kind of sexy, especially since she was usually the ass-kicking one, but…

  The car swerved off the road and headed straight for the line of twisted pines.

  “Simon!” Dee lunged for the wheel.

  Chapter 6

  Simon stared at the grim-faced reflection in the broken gas station mirror.

  He’d fucked up. Gotten distracted by a sexy smile and curvy body.

  He hadn’t been on guard, hadn’t known the attackers were going to hit until it was too late.

  Running—his only option. He hated to run.

  When the gun had fired, he’d taken the hit. Taken it hard, right in the back. A human would have died.

  Good thing he wasn’t a human.

  Dee had saved his ass when she taken the wheel. A head-on crash with trees. Never good.

  But if he didn’t do something, fast, Dee would be stalking her pretty little ass into the dingy restroom and demanding answers.

  She knew he was hurt, but she hadn’t figured out how badly. Not yet.

  If he had his way, not ever.

  Simon jerked off his shirt, gritting his teeth as the pain knifed into his back. He spun around, craning his neck to see the wound in the mirror.

  Dee waited just outside the door. She’d tucked the gun into the back waistband of her jeans and the woman was standing guard.

  But he doubted he had more than a few minutes time until she burst in to see what the hell had happened to him.

  The wound was open. Deep as hell. The bullet had lodged inside. No way could he get it out now. Eventually, he’d find someone to dig it out. He just had to stop the blood loss now.

  Because if he didn’t stop bleeding, his ass would be in serious trouble.

  Human attackers. That bastard Grim was playing smart. He hadn’t sent his vamps because they would have been weak in the growing sun. But humans, probably puppets desperate for that immortal kiss, had done his dirty work.

  And really screwed Simon over.

  The door squeaked open. The scent hit him instantly. Cigarettes. Coffee.

  “Hey, hey, buddy!” The door swung closed behind the guy. Balding, but young. Fit. “What the hell happened to you?”

  Simon cocked his head. Shouldn’t…

  But there was no choice.

  “Do you—do you need some help?” Ah, a good Samaritan. Wouldn’t those guys ever learn?

  The Samaritan crept closer. “There’s a woman outside. I can get her to call for help—”

  “No…”

  The Samaritan moved a few more precious inches closer.

  Perfect.

  Simon’s hand whipped up and caught the guy right around the neck, closing off his airway. “I can’t let you call for her at all.”

  The fear came then. In the widening of the man’s eyes, in the fast drumming of his heart.

  “Don’t worry,” Simon said, “I’m not going to kill you.”

  “Simon?” Dee’s worried voice as she rapped on the door. “Everything okay?” The rusty door began to inch open.

  “Fine!” He yelled back. “Be right there.”

  The door froze.

  He stared into his prey’s eyes. “I won’t kill you,” he repeated again because the guy had really only wanted to help.

  And that was exactly what he’d do.

  Three minutes later, Simon left the Samaritan sleeping in a bathroom stall. The cleaner stall. The one that didn’t have feces floating in the toilet.

  Dee still waited outside for him.

  “We need to hit the road,” he told her, trying to brush past her.

  “No, you’re hurt. Let me help you—”

  He shook his head. “Flesh wound, just like yours.” The scent of her blood hung in the air between them. Not as much of a temptation though, not now.

  She braced her legs and cocked her chin. “Let me see it.”

  This part, he’d expected. Dee Daniels was one stubborn woman. He lifted his shirt. Twisted a bit, and showed her the long gash on his lower left side.

  Not really a mark made by a bullet. One he’d carved himself, using his claws.

  He and Dee were sure going to have to talk soon. No way would he be able to keep hiding his true self from her.

  Just wanted her to trust me first.

  Trust. Such a hard thing to earn and so easy to lose. One word. One wrong move and she’d turn away from him.

  “They’ve got some bandages inside,” she said. “Let me get some, clean you up better.”

  A grim nod. If that was what she wanted. “Only if we do the same to you.” They’d have to hurry. Simon didn’t want to risk any more unexpected company. Not until his strength had fully returned.

  Dee turned away from him, but he reached out and snagged her arm.

  A frown pulled her brows low when she glanced back at him. “Simon?”

  “Trust me, Dee.”

  She blinked. “I don’t—”

  “I know, you don’t.” That was the problem. “I just want you to try. I’m not one of the bad guys.” Well, depending on your definition of bad. “You and I—we want the same thing.”

  For the vampires who were hunting her to pay.

  “I know you’re after the Born,” he told her, deciding to cut through the shit.

  Dee’s gaze darted around the deserted lot. “Not here. We can’t talk about this now—”

  His back teeth clenched. “Then let’s hurry and get to safety, because we damn well have to talk.”

  And maybe, just maybe, confess.

  Can’t. Lose. Her.

  Safety was her grandfather’s cabin. A place he’d built by hand long, long ago.

  Her parents had sold the place when she’d been a kid, but she’d gotten lucky and been able to buy it back two years ago. The only tie to my family.

  Win
ding dirt roads took them back to the two-bedroom shelter. The old wood gleamed in the bright sunlight.

  “Not much,” she murmured. “But I installed a generator up here a few months ago. So, we’ll have power, a roof over us, and time to figure out our next move.”

  He eyed the cabin. “Can the vamps trace this place back to you?”

  Dee slammed her door and ignored the throb in her shoulder. “No, Night Watch made sure this place was buried for me.” Because she’d wanted a retreat, no, a haven.

  Pak had made certain she was protected.

  She found the key she’d hidden so carefully on her last visit. The scent of pine teased her nose. Birds chirped from their nests high in the trees. “Come on,” she said. “We’re both about to crash.” And after the night they’d had, the crash would be hard.

  A flick of her hand and the key slid into the lock. The door opened soundlessly and the place was just as she’d left it. Rocking chair, faded rug, the quilt she’d—

  “Uh, are those stakes?”

  A smile lifted her lips as she stared at the glass gun cabinet. “Stakes…” She crossed the room and spun the lock, turning the code automatically. “Knives, guns. Everything we need to be ready for those bastards.”

  Her hand lifted and opened the door. Then her fingers smoothed over the wood and tested the sharp points of the stakes. If she’d been better armed before, they wouldn’t have been on the run now. No way would she be caught unaware again. Out here, every sound was magnified. Human ears or not, she’d hear the assholes coming long before they stepped onto her small porch.

  “You hate them, don’t you?”

  At his soft question, Dee glanced back and found Simon watching her with hooded eyes.

  No need to ask about the “them” in question. “Don’t you?” She fired back. “I know what happened, Simon. I know they killed your family. Slaughtered them, just like they did mine.”

  His jaw tightened and he slammed the cabin door closed with his heel. “I want those bastards. I want them to pay.” He wrenched the lock into place and stalked toward her. “I took some of them out already. Hunted them down…” He reached behind her, grabbed one of the deadly stakes, “and made them beg for death.”

  Her breath caught. Vengeance. How long had she wanted it?