Full Moon Rising (16 page)

"Good." His gaze went back to the floor plans. "I can think of two reasons why they might want you and Rhoan. First because you both appear to have integrated your dual heritage very well."

I went back to pacing. It was better than sitting still. Or sitting close to a treat I wasn't able to sample just yet. "And the second?"

He looked at me. "Your almost identical looks."

That stopped me. "What?"

"All the clones so far have been the image of the guardian known as Henri Gautier."

"Apparently so."

"Meaning they come from the one source."

"The friend you thought was dead."

He nodded. "Well, the dhampire found in my plane looked nothing like Gautier, meaning he came from a totally different source material altogether."

"Yeah, so?"

"So what if they don't know, or believe, that dhampires can be born naturally? What if they think you and Rhoan are lab creations?
Successful
lab creations that they
didn't
create?"

I stared at him as the implications sank in.

If that were true, my brother and I were in deep shit.

Chapter 6

T
hat really makes as much sense as them choosing to clone the same butt-ugly image over and over again." I paused, remembering as soon as I'd opened my big mouth that the butt-ugly image had apparently originally belonged to his friend. Presuming, that is, his dead friend was the source of the clones and not another clone himself. To cover my gaffe, I quickly added, "And surely if the people who attacked me already had Rhoan, I'd feel a greater sense of danger where he was concerned."

"Not necessarily. Not if Moneisha is merely a collecting point. Maybe the people behind that lab are merely getting samples and don't know yet what they really have."

I eyed him for a moment. "So you knew Rhoan was in St. Kilda investigating the disappearances of the pros?"

He nodded. "I was with him most of the night."

"Why did you leave? It's not as if dawn would have threatened you."

He grimaced. "No, but hunger could."

I raised my eyebrows. "And you couldn't have taken blood from the pros?"

"I could have, but I prefer not to." His smile touched his eyes again and damned if it didn't make my knees go weak. "I only bite someone while making love, and I do have a preference for women who are not in the game."

The thought of him biting my neck while thrusting slow and deep made me all goose pimply and hot. Man, I was really going to have to take this vampire for a test run before he disappeared out of my life.

"So Rhoan disappeared after you'd left?"

He nodded. "Rhoan was dressed like a hooker so he didn't stand out on the streets while hunting information. I was in the shadows watching, and reading thoughts."

Meaning they might have suspected that Rhoan had a guard, because they'd only snatched him once Quinn had left. Either that, or they'd thought Quinn was a watchful pimp. I walked to the windows and stared out. We were only ten floors up, so there wasn't all that much to see but more buildings. I let my gaze drift to the southeast. The reason for Rhoan's capture wasn't really important. Getting him out of there before they realized he wasn't
just
a wolf was.

I swung around. "We have to go."

Quinn didn't try to stop me, which was good, because right then I probably would have tried to flatten him. I say tried, because I very much suspected he was one vampire I
wasn't
equal to. There was something about him, something under that calm, sexy exterior, that suggested greater depths than any of the vampires I worked with. Even Jack.

And if Jack was wary of this vampire, then I sure as hell should be.

All Quinn said was, "We have to prepare first."

"I can shadow. They won't see me."

"They have infrared. You said that yourself."

I stopped at the door and took a deep breath. He was right. But it did little to ease the anxiety suddenly knotting my insides.

I glanced over my shoulder. "What do you suggest?"

He retrieved the chip from the desk, then rose and walked toward me, all grace and beauty in a lean and powerful package. "A little game of dress-up."

I could think of a lot of games I could play with this vampire, and dressing up was certainly up there on the list. But I very much doubted he meant the type of dressing up
I
was imagining--more's the pity. "Meaning?"

"Meaning, if Moneisha is looking for prostitutes, why don't we give them an easy one to snatch?"

"Wouldn't they be a little suspicious of a pro suddenly appearing on a quiet suburban street?"

He gave me the chip, then pressed a hand into my back again, guiding me toward the elevators. "Not necessarily. There's a working brothel one street down from Moneisha. Hopefully they'll think you're just walking to work."

I slanted him a sideways glance. "And how would you know there's a working brothel one street away?"

"A good investigator discovers what he can about a target area."

"Yet you said only moments before that you preferred to avoid prostitutes."

"I do." He gave me another of those grins. "I'm a billionaire. Women throw themselves at me all the time. I have no need to pay for it."

Which didn't exactly answer my question. "And do you not-pay-for-it often?"

"Quite often. I have needs, like any other man."

I was hoping he'd assuage some of those needs with me. And as soon as I got my brother out.

The doors closed behind us and the lift dropped. My stomach flirted with the idea of puking, then decided to settle again. "So where are we going?"

"To buy camouflage." His gaze slid down my body. "The skirt is nice, but it doesn't quite stretch into pro territory."

Well, no, but all I had to do was take off the coat and sweater, reveal the torn shirt, and you had come-get-me material right there. "It's nearly midnight. There are not going to be any shops open."

"When you have the money, the shops are always open."

The glass front doors slid open as we approached and the cool evening air swirled in. It was thick with the aromas of smog and humans, but underneath it lay something else. Musk and mint and man. The same combination that had been on the wolf who'd shot me.

I stopped and heard something else. A scream of air, as if something fast and deadly was tearing through the night toward us.

I threw myself sideways and knocked Quinn out of the way. He cursed, his arms going around me, instinctively cushioning my body with his as we fell to the ground. He grunted as we hit, and his eyes widened. Air hissed, and I twisted around to look. Something cut through the night just above us, something that was wood rather than metal, with a deadly pointed end.

An arrow.

The fact that it was all wood suggested it had been aimed at Quinn, but the reality was, an arrow in the heart wasn't going to do
either
of us any good.

It hit the glass behind us and ricocheted harmlessly away. Footsteps whispered across the sounds of the night. Our attacker, on the run. I broke away from Quinn's embrace, flung off my bag, coat, and sweater, then shifted shape. In wolf form, I bounded after the bastard.

"Riley, wait!"

It was a command, one I ignored. The would-be assassin was running toward South Bank, perhaps hoping to shake any pursuit in the crowd gathered near the casino. Meaning he either didn't realize I was a wolf, or he had no idea just how keen a wolf's hunting sense was.

He kept running, looking over his shoulder as he did so, barreling into people and thrusting them out of the way. I loped after him, lithely avoiding the idiot humans who screamed or stepped into my path rather than out of it. The man ahead was another Gautier, right down to the long, greasy ponytail. He was obviously aware that he was being pursued, but he was looking over the wrong shoulder and I was drawing closer and closer. His scent was cloying, the minty smell barely covering the growing odor of death and decay. I wrinkled my nose and resisted the temptation to sneeze.

He didn't head over the bridge, as I'd expected, running instead into the Clocks poker machine venue. I shifted shape, retied the shirt, then strode in after him.

He weaved through the machines, not quite running. I kept back, out of sight. His scent lingered in the air, a trail I could follow anywhere, even in a venue layered with so many conflicting odors.

Another aroma joined the throng--sandalwood. I smiled and glanced over my shoulder. Quinn was three feet behind me, my bag slung casually over his shoulder.

His dark gaze was filled with anger as it met mine. "You could have gotten yourself into trouble running off like that." He handed me my sweater, and I put it on as he added, "It might have been a trap."

It still could be. Who knew where Gautier's double might lead us? "That arrow was aimed at you, not me."

"It would have got me, too." He reached out, catching my hand and raising it to his mouth as we walked. The brief caress of his lips across my fingers was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. Sweet, and yet at the same time, erotic. "Thank you," he added softly.

I took a deep breath, trying to control my suddenly erratic pulse.

Ahead, our would-be murderer ducked through a door and disappeared. I looked up at the sign above the door and smiled. He'd gone to the toilet. Perfect.

"You mind the door." Quinn handed me back my bag and coat. "I'll have a little talk with our friend."

"Anyone else in there?"

His gaze narrowed slightly, and I knew he was using his infrared vision to check. "No."

"Good."

I followed him in, but stopped just inside, leaning back against the door as it closed. I have to say, the smell of men's toilets was never pleasant, no matter how much air freshener they used. Not that I'd been in all that many, but hey, it was one way of avoiding the queues in the women's during intermission at the theatre or concerts.

The urinals weren't occupied, but one stall was. It had to be our man. Why he thought he'd be safe behind the closed door of a toilet was anyone's guess. Maybe he didn't get out amongst vamps or werewolves much.

Quinn raised a foot and kicked the door open, then blurred so fast one second he was there, and the next he wasn't. There a brief flurry of sound, flesh smacking against flesh, then a squeak that was more a note of pain than fear. It wasn't Quinn's squeak.

Silence fell. No conversation, no nothing. But I knew what was happening. Quinn was raiding the other man's mind.

The door behind me bumped slightly, then someone knocked. "Sorry," I called. "Closed for cleaning. Someone vomited."

The gent on the other side cursed and walked away. "You'd better hurry, Quinn. Security will have seen us come in here. We probably haven't much longer before they investigate."

He came out five seconds later and closed the stall door before walking over to the basin to wash his hands. I watched him for a moment, then my gaze drifted back to that closed door and I felt a sudden chill. "He's dead, isn't he?"

"Yes." He didn't look at me, just finished washing his hands, then tore off some paper towel to dry them.

"How?" I hadn't heard the snap of bones, so he certainly hadn't broken the other man's neck.

"Heart attack." His dark gaze met mine and the coldness there chilled me. "An easy thing to do when you can read their minds and know their worst fears--and have the empathic capabilities to enforce the belief those fears are currently happening."

So he was empathic as well as telepathic. That certainly explained why he was catching my aura so strongly, despite my shields and his. "He died of fright?"

"I'm afraid so."

He dumped the paper in the bin and walked toward me. I would have backed away had I had anywhere to go. And while I recognized it was a ridiculous reaction, I just couldn't help it. As much as I was certain I could protect myself, I had the strangest feeling that, against this vampire, there was no defense.

"We'd better get out of here," he continued, in that same soft, flat tone. "Security is coming."