Skin Trade
Chapter 37-38

Chapter 37
WE WERE IN the parking lot of an elementary school. It was long enough after hours that the school was empty, no children to peer out of the windows at the show outside. Because when I say we, I mean Las Vegas Metro SWAT, Edward, Olaf, Bernardo, Undersheriff Shaw, a bevy of homicide detectives, and some uniforms and cars that would eventually close off the streets so no one drove by at the wrong moment. Victor was in one of the cars because Shaw had kicked a fit about him being in on the planning. The powers that be had insisted he be nearby to maybe talk the weretiger down, like getting the wife on the phone to talk to someone who's taken hostages. At least Victor was sitting in air-conditioning unlike the rest of us. But it wasn't just people that made for the show. It was every SWAT operator's SUV or truck. It was the huge white RV that would be the command center. The big, black shape of the B.E.A.R., which I would have called huge if the RV hadn't been sitting near it. There was a BearCat, like a smaller brother of the B.E.A.R. It was Sergeant Hooper, who had the biggest sticky notes I'd ever seen laid out on the hood of his truck. The huge sticky notes held notes incorporating everyone's information. Notes from the small laptop that was hooked directly to the huge white RV, where Lieutenant Grimes and his tech team were shooting them all the information they could find on Gregory Minns, the first weretiger on our list.
Part of that info was the layout of his house. In St. Louis they have to scout the actual house, but in Vegas, because of the huge number of cookie-cutter housing developments, the two operators had found out which model Minns's house was, and scouted an identical one blocks away. They'd gotten the information without any chance of alerting the weretiger, which was a lot harder to do than it sounded.
"We know that wereanimals can smell our scent, which is why we're paying attention to the prevailing winds," Hooper said.
"You mean you're sneaking up on the house as if Gregory Minns were big game, and you were in the jungle," I said.
Hooper seemed to think about it, then nodded. "Not a hunt in the traditional sense, because we're hoping to take the suspect alive, but yes."
I looked at Edward. He said, "They've done this before, Anita."
"Sorry, Sergeant, just not used to working with this many people who actually seem to understand that lycanthropes aren't human, but still have the same rights as regular humans."
"We know our job," Hooper said.
"I know that, Sergeant. I'll just shut up now."
He almost smiled, then went back to his notes.
"How do you get around the fact that they can hear your heartbeat from yards away?" Edward asked, and I knew by his tone that he was actually wondering if they'd figured out a solution. When Edward asks someone else a question like that, there is no higher praise.
"No one can be quiet enough to stop their heartbeat," Hooper said.
I thought, Vampires can, but I didn't say it out loud. It wouldn't have helped anything. No police force in the United States allowed vampires to join up. If you were a cop and "survived" an attack and became a vampire, you were fired. I had a friend back in St. Louis, Dave, who'd been a cop until he became a vampire in the line of duty, but instead of a fancy cop funeral, he got kicked out. The police honor their dead, as long as they aren't still able to walk around.
Bernardo said, "They can't all hear a heartbeat from yards away, and they hear better in animal form than human."
I looked at him and couldn't keep the surprise off my face. He grinned at me. "You look surprised, so I must be right."
I nodded. "Sorry, but sometimes the flirt act makes me forget that there's actually a pretty good mind in there."
He shrugged those broad shoulders but looked pleased.
Harry, who was the assistant team leader (ATL), was younger than Hooper, but older than most of the others. SWAT was a young man's game, and the fact that the team had this many people over forty was impressive, because I knew they kept up or they got out. He said, "The last visual we had of the subject was human form, so the hearing, sense of smell, all of it isn't that much above human-normal from a distance, and once we're in the room with him, he can smell us all he wants, we'll be on top of him."
"What's your policy if he's shifted?" I asked.
Hooper answered, with no glance at anyone, "With an active warrant of execution, if they shift, it's a kill."
We all nodded.
"It is easier to kill them in human form," Olaf said.
The operators looked up at him, and he was the only one of us that they had to look up to, by even an inch. "We're hoping to get the location of the serial killer's daytime lair, Jeffries, which means we need Minns alive."
It was nice to have someone else in charge who could lecture Olaf. I had to turn away both to hide my pleased expression and not to make eye contact with Edward or Bernardo; I was afraid it would have turned from a smile to giggles. The tension was growing thicker around all of us, anticipation and adrenaline in the very air. I realized that was something that lycanthropes could sense, too. But again, what could we do about it? If they'd truly been animals, we could have used things to disguise our scent, but if we smelled strongly of something weird, they'd know it was all wrong. They were people with the senses of animals; it made them hard to kill, dangerous to hunt. I looked up at the sky and the sun that was moving, inexorably, toward the horizon.
"We want to do this before dark, too, Blake," Harry said.
"Sorry, but when you spend most of your life hunting vampires, you get very aware of where the sun is in the sky."
He looked very serious. "I wouldn't want to do your job every day."
I smiled, not sure it was amused. "Some days neither do I."
Undersheriff Shaw moved closer. I'd hoped he was just going to observe. "You know more than you're telling about the local tigers, Blake."
"You questioned all of us for hours apiece, Shaw. We could have been ahead of this, and maybe, just maybe, done before dark. Now there's no way. We'll do our best, but dark will catch us, and this situation will go from bad to worse."
"I heard you came out of Max's place with a new friend. Hand in hand with one of his weretigers. You really have a thing for strippers, don't you, Blake?"
That let me know that we'd been watched, or Max was being watched. More than that, Edward hadn't picked up on it, either, so they were good, whoever it had been.
I lowered my sunglasses enough to give him my eyes. "I find your overly intense interest in my personal life disturbing, Shaw."
He actually blushed a little for me. That was interesting. I wasn't the only one who noticed that, because Hooper said, "You better suit up, Sheriff Shaw."
"What?" he asked.
"You're going in with us, right?"
"You know I'm not."
"Marshal Blake is going in with us. Please don't distract her."
"You're defending her, Hooper?" He glared at me. "I thought you didn't do cops, Blake."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you visit SWAT for a couple of hours, and suddenly they're willing to trust you at their backs, and talk back to their superiors. You must be as good as they say."
You don't get to see men like this-shocked-often, but I saw it now. That open-mouthed moment when you can't believe that slipped from someone's mouth. They moved around us, and there was that sense of the pack tightening around someone they didn't like.
Hooper spoke low, but clear, not yelling, but the emotion was there. "This woman is about to put her shoulder next to ours and go into that house, while you stay outside where it's nice and safe."
"I don't have the training anymore," Shaw said. His face couldn't seem to decide if it wanted to be pale or red, so it tried for both.
"But you did once, and you know better than to mess with our heads this close to go time."
It was Cannibal who sidled up through the green uniforms and spoke low, near Shaw. "Getting up in Anita's face isn't going to make your wife come home."
"That is none of your business."
"You made it our business when you accused us of fucking a federal officer rather than doing our jobs."
Lieutenant Grimes was suddenly working his way through the group, but he wasn't going to get there in time to stop the next few moments.
"You stay away from me, Rocco," Shaw said.
"Yeah, that's right, you're afraid of psychics, too, but you don't hate us like you do shapeshifters, because your wife didn't run off with one of us."
And just like that, the clue to why Shaw hated my ass was there. Cannibal shouldn't have said it to his boss's boss, but... I appreciated him defending my honor, or maybe he was defending his; either way, it was nice not to be alone.
Chapter 38
GREGORY MINNS'S PROFESSION was listed as bouncer, but Victor had just flat-out told us that he was an enforcer for their clan and, by hint, maybe some not-so-legal activities for Victor's dad. Most of the wererats that guarded Jean-Claude's businesses had police records, or just hadn't been caught, so I really couldn't bitch. Lately, when I didn't have room to bitch, I didn't. Maturity, at last.
We had the guy on the metal shield with its little window leading the way. We even had one guy with the little battering ram, and the rest of the team in full gear, weapons at the ready. Each of us-Edward, Olaf, Bernardo, and I-were assigned to one of the team members. We would follow their lead and go where they went. The suburbs are not great for finding spots to put a sniper, but we had them in place, some in evacuated houses near Minns's house. He had to know we were out here, but with this many people and this much procedure, it was the best we could do. Good thing about this many people, though, was we had eyes on the back of the house the whole time, and he didn't run. They'd seen him in there, and no one had seen him leave, so he was still in there. Getting everyone in place took more time. That was the thing we had the least of, and I was having trouble staying calm about it. I wasn't bitching, but I wanted to start pacing and knew I couldn't. It was one of those moments when smoking seemed like an interesting idea, or just anything to do while we waited to do this. I watched the sun get lower in the sky and had to fight my pulse from speeding up. I did not want to tackle Vittorio and his people in full darkness. I admitted to myself, if to no one else, that the feeling in the pit of my stomach was fear. One serial killer sends me a human head in a box, and I get all spooked; go figure.
I tried one more time to explain how precious our time was, as we waited for yet another team member to get into some distant place. I was actually assigned to Hooper, which meant that I'd be in the front of the line. I don't know how they decided who went where.
"Hooper, they killed your men in daylight; once darkness falls, the vampires will be able to help them, and it will be worse, much worse."
"How much worse?" he asked.
"If we keep dicking around, we're going to find out."
"I can't go against orders, Blake."
I nodded. "I know it's not your fault, but it will be you and your men who are going to be at risk."
"My men and yours," he said.
I nodded. "I'm not sure they're exactly my men, but yeah. Your men and us."
"I'd heard that the preternatural marshals didn't have a strict command structure."
I laughed. "That's one way of putting it."
That earned me a smile. "Then how do you decide who does what?"
"Ted has the most experience, and I let him take the lead a lot. Sometimes he gives it to me. I've worked with Otto and Bernardo before, so we sort of know what our strengths and weaknesses are." I shrugged. "Mostly, we work by ourselves, and we end up being shoved into the command structure of whatever police force we're working with, but mostly it's just us, alone."
"Like the Lone Ranger," he said, and he held up his hand. "I remember what you told Spider, that the Lone Ranger was a Texas Ranger."
I smiled. "Yeah, but the whole lone-gunman mentality is pretty high in the preternatural branch. We worked alone for so many years that we just don't play well with others."
A boy who looked too young to be doing this, even to me, with huge blue eyes and his hair hidden completely under his helmet, as if he'd hoped a shorter haircut would make him look legal, said, "Rumor says you play real well with others."
"Georgie," Hooper said.
He looked embarrassed.
I said, "It's not just Shaw's personal issues, is it?"
Hooper managed to shrug under all the equipment. Maybe it was the tension of waiting, knowing that once this tension was over there was a whole new set of it coming down the road. "And what did you hear, exactly, Georgie?" I asked.
He looked uncomfortable then; apparently, it was one thing to hint, but another to tell me to my face in detail.
"Come on, Georgie Porgie, you have something to say to me, then say it. If you don't have anything to say to me, then shut the fuck up."
The other men were listening, watching us, waiting to see what happened. Cannibal was with the perimeter team, so he wasn't here to defend my honor, and apparently Hooper would only defend me against outsiders. Edward was quiet nearby, letting me fight my own battles. He knew I was a big girl.
Georgie's face hardened, and I realized he was going to tell me. I probably shouldn't have made fun of his name. Oh well. "I heard you're shacking up with your Master of the City."
"And," I said.
His angry face tried to frown and still be angry. "And what?" he asked.
"Exactly," I said.
It was Bernardo who said, "She means, Georgie, that, yeah, she's shacking up with her Master of the City, so what?"
"I heard she was doing you, too," he said.
Bernardo laughed. "Man, I've been trying to get into her pants since the first time I worked with her."
All I could do was shake my head. Olaf was scowling at him. Edward was trying for a neutral face and making it. Bernardo had the attention of all the guys, though.
It was Sanchez who said, "And?"
"Ask her, she's right there," Bernardo said.
They all looked at me. I smiled, not exactly amused. "No."
"No," Bernardo said, in a dramatic voice. "She said no, and she's been saying no. I've tried for over two years, and it's been no." He did a voila gesture, as if to say, Look at all of this. "Guys, if I can't get a piece of the action, how many of the bastards that said they hit the mark do you really think hit it?"
"I'm not an it," I said.
Bernardo gestured at me. "See, Anita is not easy, not in any sense of the word."
That made them laugh. In that moment, Bernardo came closer to getting a kiss from me than he ever had before. But, weirdly, for his defense of my honor to work, I couldn't even say thank you. I just had to shake my head in disgust and call him a horndog.
The radios crackled to life, and Hooper said, "We're up." Everyone gathered the equipment they'd put down and settled it in place. Hooper looked at me. "Anita, you're with me." You could taste the tension level rise hotter than the heat.
Sanchez said, "Try not to shoot any of us by accident, Anita." He said my first name with only the syllables it's supposed to have.
"If I shoot you, Sanchez, it won't be by accident."
The other men made noises of either encouragement or disparagement. Then the second order came down, and there was no more time for teasing. I'd been told how Hooper wanted me to enter behind him, because I was the only one of the four marshals who didn't have official tactical training. I did what I was told. I put my left hand on the back of Hooper's vest so that as he moved, I'd move. I kept my other hand on the MP5 on its tactical sling so that it wouldn't accidentally point at anyone, and away we went.