As she scrambled to obey, I headed for the door. There was a blue silk dressing gown hanging from a hook near the door, so I grabbed that and put it on - more to blend in than to cover my partial nakedness. Then I pressed my back to the door frame and switched on the com-link.
"Jack, we have shots fired at the brothel. Something's gone wrong."
"Did they spot you coming in or out?"
"I'd say no except for the fact that they're back here and shooting. Maybe there were some security systems that weren't taken out by the power outage."
"And maybe they got wind of us tracking down Surrey and are now erasing all possible leads back to them. And that would mean the phone number Surrey knew, and possibly anyone who knows its location."
"That's pretty cold-blooded."
"And so are your targets."
He probably had that right. I took a quick glance around the corner. Shadows and sunshine vied for prominence in the hallway. The door down the end of the hall was still closed, but as I looked, a bolt slammed home. The occupants had obviously heard the shots - not that a bolt would stop a determined shifter. I glanced over my shoulder to ensure Cass couldn't be seen, then edged out into the hallway.
There were people running up the stairs and others running for the rear of the building. The air was thick with the smell of fear and blood, but at least the screaming had stopped. But although there were no more gunshots, those men were still down there. I could smell the wolf, as he could no doubt smell me. Hopefully, he'd just think I was working here. It might be unusual for a wolf to work in a brothel, but it wasn't unheard of.
They were obviously going after their main target first, and that had to be the owner, the man who'd rented them the room. Anyone else they'd take care of when and if they had the time.
I reached the banister and took a quick glance down. Two half-dressed women were fleeing up the stairs, and several yards behind them ran a man wearing a lot of gold jewelry. Behind them all, one flight down, was the blond bird-shifter with the gun. His movements were calm, assured. Maybe he knew there was no way out up here - other than jumping out a window. And if anyone who didn't have wings attempted that from this height
... Well, he'd probably save himself some bullets.
I reached out telepathically, intending to slip into his mind and stop him, only to hit an electronic wall. The bastard was wearing a nanowire. And a strong one, if the recoil of energy was any indication. I could break it, but it would take time and, more important, leave me open for attack from the wolf. I couldn't psychically attack two men simultaneously, even if I was one of the Directorate's strongest telepaths.
I stepped back into the shadows and waited. The two women ran past, smelling of sweat and fear and sex. They didn't even see me, just ran toward Cass's room. Then the man appeared. He was small and wiry, with big ears and a twitchy nose - currently dripping sweat. My inner wolf snarled - she liked hunting rabbits, not saving them.
I grabbed him with one hand and hauled him over the banister, then clamped my other hand over his mouth, cutting off his yelp before it could leave his throat.
"Riley Jenson, Directorate," I whispered, my lips so close to his ear I could almost taste the blood from a bullet wound on his neck. My wolf soul ached to rip and tear into the flesh she so often hunted up in the hills of Macedon, but the vampire wasn't having anything to do with his foul stench. And that in itself was a reason to celebrate, given the sudden swing in my DNA toward vampire.
"If you want to live," I added, "get under that bed and stay there."
He, like Cass, scrambled to obey. Jack said into my ear, "Riley, we need them alive if it's possible."
"Boss," I murmured, hoping like hell the wolf was far enough away not to hear me, "I've only been away for a few months. I'm not that rusty."
Nor was I that much of a killer. I hoped.
"Do you need assistance?" he added.
I hesitated. Assistance meant calling in either Rhoan or Iktar, and the reality was, there'd be no chance of either of them getting here before the action was over - even if they were in the city. And I doubted my brother was.
"No. I'm fine."
"Okay. I've ordered the cleanup team to your location. They'll be there in twelve."
I didn't answer. I couldn't. The bird-shifter was now far too close, his scent tainting the air with its sharpness.
The sound of a gunshot ripped across the tense semi-silence, and I half jumped. But the shot had not been aimed at me. It hadn't even been fired by the shifter on the stairs. It had come from the ground floor, from either the wolf or whoever was left alive down there.
A heartbeat later, the screaming began again. I flexed my fingers, fighting the urge to help those women. I might be a guardian, I might have the advantage of speed and power, but the reality was it was still two against one, and both of them were armed. And Jack would be pissed if I got myself killed after everything else that had happened over the last few months.
The shifter's steps were barely audible over the sounds of panic and sobbing. I briefly wondered whether Frankie - the brothel guard who'd apparently had muscles on his muscles - had been the first victim, or whether he was still down there trying to do his job, then stilled the thought as a blond head stepped onto the landing and turned.
I didn't give him the chance to see me. I simply launched straight at him, one hand grabbing for the arm that held the gun. I hit him waist-high and we went down hard, his body cushioning mine. He reacted as any trained fighter would - with power and quickness. His fist pounded into my side so hard it felt like concrete, and it was all I could do to hang on to the arm that held the gun. He hit me again, and something inside me cracked. I swore and flicked an elbow upward, smashing it under his chin and driving his bottom jaw up into his top. On a human, such a blow would have broken his jaw, but this man was not human, and we were bred tougher. He spat out some bloody teeth and grabbed me one-handed, rolling me around so that he was on top.
"Let go of the gun, my pretty," he said, his breath like dead meat, "or I'll be forced to break something else."
"Try it, and I'll break you."
He chuckled and raised his fist. I bucked my body, lifting him off me far enough to get one leg underneath him. Before he could release his weapon, he came down, balls first, onto my knee. Air exploded from his lungs and he went an odd shade of puce.
I ripped the gun from his grasp, smashed the butt of it over his head to knock him out, then dumped him off me.
Only to hear another set of footsteps coming up the stairs.
Crap.
I jumped to my feet, grabbed the shifter's arms, and dragged him into the nearest bedroom. I dumped him near the bed then threw off the mattress, hoping like hell the squeaking I'd heard earlier was an indication that these beds had those cheap metal springs. And for once, fate gave me a break.
I grabbed the nearest spring, ripped enough wire free to give me a decent length of metal, then shoved the shifter on his side. After hauling his arms around his back, I tied them together with the wire, wrapping it around and around his limbs, right up to his shoulders. Of course, it wouldn't hold him if he shifted shape, so for good measure, I smashed the gun butt down onto his elbow. The crack of breaking bone made me wince, but a shifter free and unable to fly was better than nothing. I tied the rest of the wire off the best I could, then stepped over him and headed for the door.
The footsteps on the stairs had stopped. I flared my nostrils, searching for the scent of the wolf. He was close, but not close enough. And he was more than likely as aware of my presence here as I was of his.
I had two choices: Wait him out, or go down after him.
I was leaning toward the first option when the gunshots and the screaming started again. Not just any screams, but ones that transformed into wet, gurgling sounds, only to be silenced by another gunshot.
He was shooting to maim before he killed them. Trying to lure me out with the pain of the women.
It worked.
I took a deep breath, then ran as fast as I could for the stairs. I grabbed the banister one-handed and flung myself over it, dropping down the stairwell onto the second to last step and landing half crouched. I saw the wolf immediately. Saw the gun pointed straight at my head. I threw myself sideways, smashing several balusters as I tumbled out into the third-floor hallway. The bullet meant for my head thudded into my shoulder, and pain erupted.
The bastard was using silver.
I'd been shot far too many times by the wretched stuff, and my flesh reacted instantly. Fierce, aching fire flared down my arm, stealing sensation, stealing strength, before I could even blink.
If I didn't take him down soon, I wouldn't be able to.
But the minute I moved, he'd shoot me again. And with the silver already in my shoulder, I just didn't have the speed behind me anymore. Not even my vampire blood could save me from the effects of it.
So instead of moving, I remained where I was, shuddering and shaking and sweating. It wasn't an act. The pain was intense, and growing sharper. But my fingers - the ones on my right hand, the hand I could still feel - were wrapped around a sturdy piece of broken baluster. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it didn't need to be when you had the strength of a vampire behind you.
Although if he didn't move soon, the silver might snatch that from me, as well.
For several seconds, nothing happened. He remained where he was, motionless and silent, except for the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing. But I could feel his tension, could smell his readiness to act should I even twitch.
Finally, he stepped forward. One step, then two. Soon the sharp aroma of male wolf filled every breath, and it was all I could do not to twist and plunge the stake into his flesh. He wasn't anywhere near close enough for that.
So I waited as the fire in my shoulder flared even brighter and the numbness began to creep across the rest of my body.
He toed my back, then retreated quickly. I didn't react. He tried again, harder this time. I moaned - a sound that was real and heartfelt because he'd hit the broken bone. He chortled softly, then stepped over me.
I lashed upward with a booted foot, striking him hard in the nuts. As he stumbled and dropped, I twisted upright, driving the balustrade into his upper arm, forcing it through flesh and muscle and then into his side, pinning his arm to his body. He screamed, his fingers jerking reflexively and releasing the gun. I twisted, knocking him off his feet, then jumped to mine, staggering forward for the weapon.
"Jack," I panted, as I wrapped my fingers around the gun. I swung around and smashed it across the wolf's face. He went down and didn't move. "Get someone here quickly. I've been shot by silver and I'm fading fast."
He swore. "The men?"
"Out of action for the moment." My back hit the wall and I slumped down its length, my rump hitting the floor hard enough to send a wave of pain through me. For a moment, I saw red. Sweat broke out across my forehead and stung my eyes. I blinked fiercely and tried to concentrate on the wolf. He might be unconscious right now, but if the bastard woke and so much as twitched in my direction, I'd shoot him. And right now, with the silver burning in my flesh, I didn't really care if I killed him or not.
"The team is four and a half minutes away," Jack said. "Hang in there, Riley."
I wasn't going to make four minutes. I doubted I'd even make two. The burning was getting worse and my hand was beginning to shake so hard I'd be in danger of shooting myself if I actually fired the weapon.
"Cass," I yelled, my voice hoarse and scratchy. "I need help here."
There was no immediate response, and I can't really say I blamed her.
"Cass," I screamed. "The men are down, Directorate reinforcements are almost here, and I've been shot. I really, really need your help."
"They're three minutes away," Jack said into my ear.
Really? I thought, a little dazedly. Cole was really pushing the speed limits.
The numbness was beginning to creep up my neck. Breathing was getting harder. Oh god. I couldn't die - I didn't want to die. Not like this.
Strength flooded me - a strength that was love and warmth and everything that was still right with my world. It battered the numbness away from my neck, allowing me to breathe a little easier. It didn't erase it - it couldn't erase it - just subverted it, sending it down toward my legs rather than into my chest and throat. It bought me time, and I needed that desperately.
You will not die, Riley, Quinn said. I won't allow it. Keep breathing. Keep fighting. I'm on my way.
No, I thought weakly. Don't. I'll be fine.
And even as I said it, I knew he'd ignore me. And part of me was mighty glad of that fact.
After a few more precious seconds, footsteps echoed on the stairs, heading down.
"Riley?" Cass's voice was tentative, as if she were ready to flee given the slightest provocation.
"Here," I croaked.
Her head appeared in my line of sight, but it was fuzzy. Or maybe it was just my eyesight that was fuzzy. Her gaze widened when she saw me, and her face went white.
"Oh god," she said, one hand over her mouth.
"Yeah," I said. "He was using silver bullets. I need you to take it out."
"Two minutes," Jack intoned. "Hang on."
Cass drew in a shuddering breath and said "I can't - "
"You can," I interrupted harshly. "You must."
I put the gun down on the floor. My hand was shaking far too hard now for it to be safe.
She made a distressed sound low in her throat, then took another breath. "I'll get Marla. She's better at - "
