Chapter 18
Adam left the police station after having dropped off the rest of the evidence against the Fire members. He walked several blocks before ditching the hat and dark glasses. Another two blocks and he tore off the fake mustache and shrugged out of the plaid jacket, to drop it into a garbage can in front of a fast-food restaurant. The sweatshirt he wore still concealed the gun pressed against his lower back. The air cooled his neck, but finally the rain had ebbed. The sun had yet to make an appearance, however.
He scratched putty off his face, finally getting rid of the rest of his disguise. It was quite amazing what one could find at a dollar discount store.
His mind turned the matter over. He should probably take Victoria to her home so she could get her possessions. When he’d left, she’d been sleeping so peacefully he hadn’t had the heart to awaken her. She’d been talking Klingon again, and he’d hated to leave her. But he had work to do, and part of his plan would keep her safe.
Leaning against a brick building, he quickly dialed his contacts at headquarters.
“Yes?” Chalton Reese, the Realm’s best computer expert, said calmly.
“Hi. It’s Adam. I need everything you have on the DEA’s investigation into Apollo, Titans of Fire, and the Grizzlies. Especially anything involving Victoria Monzelle.” Adam watched a couple of kids skateboard through the crowd across the street, smoothly missing the pedestrians. Impressive.
“Dage already has me on it,” Chalton said. “Give me another hour, and I’ll e-mail the info to you.”
Of course the king was already investigating. The guy just couldn’t keep his nose out of everyone’s business. Adam sighed. “Thanks.” He clicked off the phone.
Victoria had to be stirring by now. He should grab some takeout for her. Maybe Chinese?
A signature wafted on the slight breeze. Power and tension.
Adam went on full alert, purposely keeping his posture relaxed. He lifted the phone to his ear, pretending to make another call. A scan of the immediate area didn’t reveal the threat.
His heart sped up and adrenaline flowed through his veins.
Somebody was near. Somebody holding power.
Not unusual in Seattle, yet he couldn’t place the location of the person. No doubt the other immortal sensed him as well—and he couldn’t use any powers to pinpoint the guy’s location. He kept his ear to the phone and breathed deep, allowing the world to focus to that one signature.
Witch. Not vampire or demon. No chance it was a shifter. Aye. A witch was near.
He studied the people across the street. No. He turned and focused on the nearest stores. No. Whoever it was, they were keeping themselves hidden from him. Finally, he slid the phone into his pocket and moved down the street, his senses on full alert and seeking. Another signature came into play.
Fuck.
Were they trying to surround him? He calculated escape routes, but he wasn’t sure which direction they were coming from. Then it hit him. He looked up.
A gun with a long barrel was pointed right at him. He jumped to the side just as a dart embedded itself in the brick behind him, twanging with an odd sound. Shit.
Was it an Apollo dart?
He turned and ducked into a store selling women’s lingerie. A full-bodied woman smiled big and hustled up to him, her hands full of bright pink bras. As she started to speak, he spun around her and jogged for the rear of the store.
“Hey—” she called.
He ignored her, bounded over a glass counter, and shoved behind red velvet curtains next to a sign reading STAFF ONLY. He tripped over a box, jumped over three more, and rushed toward the door at the end. The knob was locked. Sucking in, he twisted with more strength, snapping the thing loose. Then he dodged into a back alley.
Garbage cans littered the way, and water-filled potholes dotted the entire length. He glanced up and didn’t see anybody. How many were there? More important, who the fuck were they, and how had they found him? He kept to the sides of the buildings and ran hard, avoiding the garbage bins. As he reached the end of the alley, he paused, breathing deep and opening his senses.
It would make sense that they’d been watching the police station for Alexandra, hoping to catch Kellach. And any witch within a few yards would’ve caught Adam’s scent, regardless of the disguise meant to fool surveillance cameras. The idiots knew enough to stake out the police station, but they didn’t have anybody inside, or the squad would’ve known that Alexandra had taken a leave of absence. It was most likely the hitman was from Ireland or taking orders from somebody there. Had the Council decided to take Adam out as well?
Running into the throng of humans bustling around, he kept his senses on full alert and his head ducked. The sun was finally peeking through the clouds, which was probably why so many people filled the area. It was also lunchtime, and briefcases caught his thighs every once in a while as he wound through the crowd.
He scouted the rooftops on either side and didn’t see anybody.
Even so, he edged as close to the buildings as he could, often having to skirt wrought iron fences protecting restaurant patrons from the busy crowd using the same sidewalk. The scents of pizza, burgers, and fried rice surrounded him. Even through the smells of food and humans, he could sense the witches growing near.
They were closing in.
A flash from a barrel across the street caught his eye, and he ducked as a dart flew toward his face. It bounced off a steel sign, dropping to the cracked sidewalk. He bent and fetched it, keeping his pace up, looking for the next shooter as the one across the street disappeared. He took a sniff of the dart.
Fury clenched his hand into a fist. Apollo. If they thought they could take him down in broad daylight, they hadn’t read his file. Any of his files, actually.
Keeping the poison pointed away from his skin, he stuck the dart in his jeans. He got lost in the center of a group of men in business suits arguing loudly about the Seahawks, and then he took an abrupt turn into a Japanese restaurant. Smiling at the hostess as if he were meeting somebody, he strode between tables and right into the kitchen, passing several chefs and reaching a long hallway.
Perfect.
He walked the distance and then found the stairs. Climbing them three at a time, he kept going up, measuring the building at probably six stories. Once he reached the top, he faced a double-locked steel door. Swinging back, he planted his boot right in the center, blowing it open to bounce against a bunch of stacked bricks.
Then he ran into the sun. Crouching low, he made it over to the edge of the roof and surveyed the crowd below before focusing on the rooftops. Ah ha. One man dressed in dark colors, including cargo pants, came into view across the street a couple of rooftops over.
Adam removed the dart and placed it on the gravel next to him. Then he dropped to his belly, drawing his gun. Stretching out, he set the green laser for its longest distance. The laser would turn to metal the second it hit immortal flesh. He set his wrists on the edge of the roof and lowered his face, shutting one eye.
If he knew these guys were from the Council or part of the Guard, he’d use his powers. If they weren’t, manipulating physics to create fire would reveal him to the Council or the Guard. So a human fight it would be.
His target was crouched, his gun sweeping the crowd below. His head jerked, and he tapped his ear. Then his gaze lifted toward Adam.
Shit. Someone behind him had broadcast his location. Adam squeezed the trigger. The green laser shot straight and true, hitting the guy center mass and throwing him back several yards. The dart gun flew up in the air and then over onto a fire escape, where it clattered down the stairs. The witch would live, but he’d be out cold for several hours from the heart shot.
Swinging his legs around, Adam was already firing toward the roof entrance.
A male yelled and jumped behind the bricks. He leaned to the side and fired a series of darts.
One impacted Adam’s left thigh, and the other his right arm. His arm went numb. Grabbing his gun with his left hand, he stood and fired repeatedly at the bricks, sending sharp pieces careening through the air. The guy behind the bricks shot another dart.
Adam dipped to the side, and the murderous barb whizzed by his ear.
The guy leaped up and right at him, hitting him in the gut and tackling him to the rooftop. Gravel tore Adam’s shirt, cutting along his spine. His left leg shook and went numb. Fury ripped through him, and he clapped both hands against the guy’s ears. Something snapped. The attacker screamed in pain, his light blue eyes widening.
He punched Adam in the nose.
Adam punched back with his left hand, getting leverage and rolling them over. The guy fought back, rolling, and soon they were crashing across the roof, scattering gravel in every direction.
The vision in Adam’s left eye started to spot. His chest hurt.
Two darts. That wasn’t enough to kill him, but he was rapidly losing strength. He punched the guy in the neck. The witch looked somewhat familiar but Adam couldn’t place him. Adam flipped him over and grabbed his hair, slamming the guy’s face into the roof repeatedly. Blood sprayed, coating the gravel around them.
The guy kicked back but couldn’t find purchase.
Adam slipped his good arm around the witch’s neck and yanked, using his knees as leverage. “Who ordered the hit?” he growled, digging deep to hold on to his strength, wanting desperately to use his powers.
Fire lanced from the witch’s hands, and Adam shifted his knees to the guy’s shoulders, using his weight to keep the witch flat. The fire shot out across the roof, bouncing harmlessly. “Who?” Adam snapped, his other eye beginning to twitch.
“Fuck you,” the witch hissed, trying to shake his head and dislodge Adam’s hold.
“Not my type.” Flames poured down Adam’s arms without conscious thought. The drug was taking over, and he was losing control. Quickly. The fire burned the witch’s neck, and he screamed. “Just tell me,” Adam ordered, the world starting to spin around him.
The guy chuckled. “You’re going to be out cold in about three minutes.” Twisting slightly, he shot an elbow up into Adam’s rib cage, throwing him flat on his back.
Adam went into a backward somersault and vaulted to his feet. His left leg gave, and he dropped to his other knee right at the edge of the roof.
The witch advanced, glee lighting his broad face. His training showed him to be in his hundreds, but his fire had seemed unrestrained—definitely not military. He glanced around for his gun and then shrugged. “I’ll just kill you the old-fashioned way.” He moved forward, cracking his large knuckles as he approached.
Adam’s head lolled. He lifted his chin, feeling blood sliding down his neck. “Just tell me. Who ordered the hit?” There was no doubt it was a kill order. This guy wasn’t planning on taking him in.
“Private hit not sanctioned by the Council,” the guy said, rubbing his hands together. “Not the whole council, anyway.” His laugh was grating and his teeth crooked.
Adam swayed, even on his knees.
“Time to die, Enforcer.” The witch clasped Adam around the neck.
Adam grabbed the dart he’d dropped earlier and swung up, nailing the witch in the eye.
The witch screamed holy hell and reached for the dart, yanking it out. The second the dart hit the ground, Adam punched him in the balls, grabbed his waistband, and pulled. The witch flew over Adam’s head and into the air. His yell as he fell six stories was joined by the screams of people on the sidewalk below. The thunk of the witch hitting the sidewalk sounded like somebody had smashed a watermelon.
Adam fell forward, and gravel cut into his chin. Dots blocked his vision, leaving only his peripheral view even a little clear.
He used his good arm to push himself to his knees and proceeded to crawl to the other side of the roof. Using only his good arm, he swung himself over the edge, then all but fell to the fire escape a story below. Grunting, his vision going, he managed to trip and fall all the way down to the alley. God, he had to get out of there.
Sirens sounded in the distance.
Holding his damaged arm to his side, he hurried along the sidewalk, his vision gray. A cab was parked up ahead. He struggled to pull open the door and then fell inside. He gave the cabbie the only address he could think of and then promised the guy five hundred dollars if he got Adam there safely. He groaned and made up some dumb lie about having a migraine and needing to rest until they arrived.
Then he passed out cold.